


Getting What He Wants

by saltythumbtack



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Consent, Dean and Cas act like they do in season 5, Eventual Smut, Feelings, It'll be happy eventually I promise, M/M, Meaning they're dicks and don't trust Sam, Slow Burn, Things are Not Nice to Sam but they will be one day, sorry Sam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-22
Updated: 2017-11-19
Packaged: 2018-11-03 19:21:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 55,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10973733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltythumbtack/pseuds/saltythumbtack
Summary: When archangels fall from Heaven, the Winchesters are less than pleased by the arrival of Lucifer, who hasn't lost his powers in his escape. Even worse, Lucifer seems to have escaped for a reason, and that reason is to find Sam. Sam doesn't want Lucifer, but Lucifer wants Sam. And Lucifer always gets what he wants.





	1. Shooting Stars

Things had been pretty decent for Team Free Will recently. They’d iced some monsters, pissed off some cops, and discovered that Cas liked Planet Earth documentaries (he said he enjoyed seeing human perspectives on God’s weirdest creations). They were on the road plenty, always looking for potential cases and monsters to fight, but the bunker was starting to feel like home.

It was one of the peaceful nights. Sam was sprawled across a couch and Dean was lounging in a leather armchair that he seemed particularly fond of. They were arguing without any particular venom about what to watch, with Dean insisting on the latest _Expendables_ film, and Sam levying for _Once Upon a Time_. Dean called him a sissy, and Sam responded by throwing a pillow at him and calling Dean a meathead. 

“Why don’t we call Cas and ask him for a tiebreaker?” Sam suggested, absentmindedly scrolling through Netflix’s catalogue. Dean shrugged, conceding, and pulled out his phone.

“Hey, Cas, we need your opinion on something.” Dean paused for a moment, then laughed. 

“No, it’s nothing serious. We can’t decide what to watch, and we needed a tiebreaker.” 

Another pause, then “ _Expendables_ or _Once Upon a Time_?” Dean groaned. “Seriously? Fine.” He hung up and turned to face Sam. 

“Cas says _Once Upon a Time_ is better.” 

Sam punched the air victoriously, laughing as Dean scowled at him. “Come on, Dean, it’s a good show. Charlie likes it.” 

Dean glowered, refusing to respond. Sam laughed, settling down on the couch and taking a pull from his beer. Just as the show was about to start, there was a rumble of thunder from outside, shaking the bunker, and the lights flickered out.

“Ha!” Dean crowed triumphantly. “Even God disapproves of your show.” Sam ignored Dean, instead walking up the stairs to look outside the window. 

“Dean.” Sam said quietly. Dean stopped his celebrations. Sam’s voice was somber and low, and Dean slowly got up to join him.

The sky was covered with shooting stars.

“Maybe it’s just weird weather.” Dean said with no real conviction. Sam stood speechless. They hadn’t dealt with this in years. They’d restored heaven. Why was this happening again?

“We should call Cas.” Sam managed. Dean nodded in agreement, struggling to swallow around a suddenly dry throat. He pulled his phone out of his pocket, and Sam tried to ignore the way Dean’s hand was trembling. This was bad. If angels were falling en masse, then what was happening up in heaven? Sam watched as Dean shifted nervously, trying to conceal his worry. 

“Cas, you seeing this?” Dean croaked, putting the call on speaker so Sam could hear the angel’s reply. 

“Yes, Dean, though I’m not quite sure what caused it. Heaven was fine the last time I checked, and I don’t know what could have caused a mass exodus of this kind.” Cas’ voice was heavy with concern, and Sam could picture the angel’s furrowed brow and narrowed eyes as he watched the angels fall. Sam rubbed the back of his neck, resisting the urge to shiver. 

“I think they’re archangels.” 

“What?” The hunters said in union, shocked. 

“They’re archangels.” Cas repeated. 

“How?” Dean asked incredulously. “What can push archangels out of heaven? Aren’t they all old and sleeping or dead or something?”

The angel’s sigh of exasperation sent a rush of static through the phone’s tinny speakers. “No, Dean, they’re not dead. They’re very old, and I don’t know why they’d have awoken now. Something big must be happening.”

“Well, stay safe, buddy, but keep an ear out on angel radio and let us know if you hear anything, okay?” Dean said gruffly, and Sam echoed an affirmative. Dean ended the call, taking a deep, shuddering breath. 

“So much for a quiet night in, huh?”

/////////

Sam rubbed his hands over his face, closing his eyes for a long moment. He and Dean had been scouring the internet for any sign of unusual happenings since the shower of shooting stars, but there was nothing. Meteorologists didn’t have an explanation for the sudden influx of shooting stars, but assured the public that it was nothing to worry about. They hadn’t heard from Cas, and Dean kept reflexively checking his phone every few minutes. Sam let out a frustrated sigh, and stood, groaning as his stiff muscles protested the sudden movement.

“I’m gonna turn in for the night. You should do the same.” Dean grunted noncommittally, waving a vaguely dismissive gesture in Sam’s direction. Sam trudged off to his bedroom, yawning widely. It had been a long day.

“Sammy?”

Sam rolled over, reluctantly cracking open an eye at the sound of his brother’s voice. “What?” He called sleepily, stretching and turning to see his clock. 3:15 am. Why was Dean waking him up at 3:15 am? Sam sat up slowly, listening as Dean’s footsteps drew closer to his door.

“What’s going on?” Sam asked, instantly growing alert as Dean’s features came into view. His brother’s face was ashen, his mouth drawn in a tight-lipped grimace, and he wouldn’t meet Sam’s eyes.

“Cas is here.” Dean murmured, staring resolutely at the floor. 

“Oh, god, is he hurt?” Sam half rose from the bed, fear curling in his stomach. “No, no, he’s fine!” Dean said hurriedly, and Sam settled down again, noticing with apprehension that Dean was still refusing to meet his gaze.

“Dean, what’s wrong?” Sam asked, suspicion lacing his voice. Dean opened his mouth as though to explain, then shut it with a frustrated noise.

“Just...come see for yourself.”

Sam followed Dean into the kitchen of the bunker, heart in his throat. Cas stood, sopping wet, in the middle of the room, supporting another man who appeared to be unconscious. Sam’s brow furrowed, and he took a step forward to help the man. Dean put out a hand, stopping him. Sam looked at Dean questioningly, but his brother shook his head. Frowning, Sam turned to look at Cas, and realized that the angel was staring unblinkingly at him.

“What?” Sam said defensively. Cas’ head tilted in that inquisitive way, and his burning gaze was beginning to irritate the tall hunter.

“Sam...do you not recognize him?” Cas asked quietly. Sam paused, and took a moment to scrutinize the unconscious man. He was tall, slightly taller than Cas, with messy blonde hair and worn jeans. He was vaguely familiar, though Sam couldn’t quite place him.

The man’s shoulders shook, and Sam’s first thought was that he was shivering. Then, the man’s head tilted back, and Sam realized that his shoulders were shaking not from cold, but from mirth. 

“Why, Sammy.” said Lucifer. “Don’t you remember me?”


	2. The Cage

Sam’s mind was screaming at him to run, but he was rooted to the ground in fear. Dean rested a comforting hand on his shoulder, and the taller hunter shuddered involuntarily. Lucifer was here. Satan was in his kitchen, and Cas had brought him there. 

“I’m sorry, Sam, but there was nowhere I else I could bring him.” Cas apologized, his low voice echoing around the silent kitchen. Sam let out a shaky laugh. “How about the Cage?” He tried to disguise the terror in his voice with a nervous, high-pitched laugh, but it faded quickly. 

“Cas,” said Dean quietly. “Why did you bring _him_ here?” 

The angel swallowed, his eyes darting between the two hunters apprehensively. “Lucifer still has his powers, and we need to store him somewhere safe. I thought your dungeon would be the best place.” Dean shook his head. “Cas, we can’t keep Satan in our basement. It’s too risky, and I don’t trust him not to mess with Sam.” Sam nodded in agreement. Seeing Lucifer again conjured up images of the Cage, and if there was one thing Sam wanted to forget, it was the Cage.

“Dean, there’s no other way.” Cas insisted. “I’m sorry, but this is the safest place to keep Lucifer. He is far more powerful than any angel I know of, except for Michael, and your dungeon is the only place that could adequately hold Lucifer until we can figure out how to put him back in the Cage.” 

“Oh, come on, Cassie, don’t be like that.” Satan whined. “I’d never hurt little Sammy. He’s my cuddle buddy. Right, Sam?” Lucifer gave Sam his best wide-eyed, pleading look, and Sam snapped. “Don’t look at me like that, you sick son of a bitch.” He snarled, starting towards the Devil, a murderous look in his eyes. 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa there, Sammy.” Dean grabbed Sam, pulling him back from the Devil. Lucifer snickered mockingly. “Don’t worry, Dean-o. I could stop Sammy if I wanted.” 

“Shut up.” Dean snapped back. “Cas, get Satan into the dungeon. I’ll be down in a second to help with the holy oil and handcuffs.” The angel turned to leave, pulling along a cheerful Lucifer, who blew Sam a kiss over Cas’ retreating back. Dean ignored him, and turned instead to Sam.

“Listen, Sam, I know this is gonna be hard for you. But Cas is right. This is the safest place to hole up the Devil, and I promise you’ll never have to see him. Cas can keep watch, and I’ll bring him anything else he needs. Okay?” Dean smiled reassuringly, but Sam could see the flicker of doubt and fear inside his brother’s eyes. Dean was scared, not just of the Devil, but for Sam. The taller hunter managed a weak smile. “I’ll be okay, Dean. I was shocked, that’s all.” Dean thumped his shoulder affectionately. “That’s the spirit, Sammy. I’m gonna go give Cas a hand with binding Satan. You go back to bed, okay?” Sam nodded, and Dean, satisfied by his response, disappeared into the dungeon, leaving Sam alone in the kitchen.

Sam took a shaky breath, collapsing into a chair. Lucifer was here. Lucifer was going to be staying in their basement, and there was nothing Sam could do to stop him if he got out. There was an incredibly powerful, evil archangel in the bunker, and suddenly, it felt a whole lot less like home. 

He slept fitfully, memories of the Cage waking him in a cold sweat every few hours. Finally, at 7 am, Sam gave up trying to sleep, and wandered into the kitchen in search of caffeine. He found Dean already there, nursing a cup of coffee and a long-suffering expression.

“Morning.” Sam offered, yawning. Dean grunted a response, not looking up from his mug. “How’d it go with Cas?” Sam asked. Dean glanced up briefly, brow furrowing slightly. “Hmm? Oh, it was fine. Got Satan cuffed in the chair, surrounded him with holy oil, carved some sigils, the usual. Cas is standing watch.” Sam nodded approvingly, taking a sip from his cup of coffee. 

“What are we going to do with him?”

Dean shrugged noncommittally. “Keep him locked up, probably. Cas’ll need to check in with Heaven at some point, so I’ll watch Satan while he’s gone.” 

“That’s not going to work.”

Dean looked up, surprised. “What do you mean, it’s not going to work?”

“We’re still going to have cases. We’re still going to need to hunt. Especially now, with who-knows-what going on, and archangels falling from the sky, we’re going to be in high demand. We can’t just leave Lucifer here. It’s not safe.”

Dean took a sip of coffee, pondering Sam’s words. He had a point. Leaving Satan alone in the bunker was asking for trouble, but they couldn’t very well neglect their duties as hunters, nor could they bring Satan along with them. He huffed out a sigh. “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it, Sam. For now, let’s try to figure out what’s going on.” Sam murmured an affirmative, and walked to the library to do some research.

Several hours later, Sam’s head was pounding, and he needed a sandwich. He’d been trying to find any explanations for the sudden influx of archangels, and none had arisen. There hadn’t been any unnatural happenings, at least none related to angels, and the news cycle had already moved on from the shooting star shower last night. Sighing, he pushed his chair back and stood, stretching. 

_Mmm, there’s a pretty sight to see._

Sam froze.

“Hello?” He whispered, fear seizing up his throat.

No reply.

Sam swallowed thickly, struggling to control his breathing. He must’ve just imagined it. There wasn’t anyone else here. No one was talking to him. He shook himself. “You’re just tired.” He scolded himself. “Get some lunch, see what Dean’s figured out, then take a nap. You’ll feel better then.”

Determined, Sam headed into the kitchen, then stopped short in the doorway. Dean and Cas were standing with their backs to him, talking in low voices. Sam took a hesitant step towards them, straining to hear what they were saying.

“Do you think he’ll be okay?” Dean murmured. Cas twitched his shoulder in an almost nonexistent shrug. “It’s hard to say for sure. Lucifer is still incredibly powerful, even bound, and I worry for Sam’s spirit.”

“What do you mean?” Dean asked, looked at Cas curiously. The angel sighed, seeming to deflate slightly under the hunter’s gaze.

“If Lucifer were to tempt Sam-” “No.” Dean cut him off. “That’s not gonna happen. Sam’s never gonna say yes to that slimy son of a bitch.” 

“Dean.” Hissed Cas. “This is not about Sam’s character. I have no doubt that your brother is a good man, but this is _Lucifer_ we’re talking about here. The Lord of Sin and Temptation is not going to be easily deterred from something he wants, and he wants your brother.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, Cas.” Sam said casually. “Really means a lot to me.” Dean and Cas whirled around, and Sam laughed aloud at their stunned expressions. 

“No, really.” He continued, not bothering to hide his bitterness. “I’m comforted by the fact that you have so much faith in me.” Cas opened his mouth to reply, but Dean interrupted him.

“Sam, Cas wasn’t trying to hurt you. I don’t agree with him, but he has a point. We don’t know what Satan’s going to try to do to you.”

“So, what, I should leave the bunker? Find some motel to stay in so that Cas can sleep well at night? Oh, wait, he doesn’t sleep. Never mind that I’m the one who’s got nightmares about the Cage and would’ve tried to kill Lucifer last night if Dean hadn’t stopped me. I’m sure I’m not to be trusted.” Sam spat, disgust evident in his voice. Cas hung his head, refusing to meet Sam’s eyes, and Dean looked torn.

“Sam, please, this is for your sake too. I don’t want you to get hurt.” Dean pleaded, but Sam was having none of it.

“Cut the crap, Dean. I’m not going to be Satan’s bitch.”

Dean threw up his hands, clearly frustrated. “You said it yourself, Sam. There’s no good way to do this. We can’t leave Satan alone, and we can’t keep watch over him constantly. With you out of the bunker, you’re a little safer at least.”

“Like you said, Dean. We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.” Sam retorted. This was unbelievable. He wasn’t going to leave the bunker, certainly not because of some trumped-up fear that he was going to break down and become Lucifer’s bitch. “If you’re so concerned for my safety, then who’s watching Lucifer?”

Cas’ face colored, though from shame or fury, Sam couldn’t tell. 

“The Devil is secure.” He growled.

“Oh? Then why are you worried about me? He’s clearly secure enough to going unmonitored.” Sam challenged, lifting his chin defiantly. 

“That’s enough.” Dean snapped, stepping between his brother and the angel. “Look, I don’t agree with either of you, but arguing about this isn’t going to solve anything.” Sam rolled his eyes, but stayed quiet. “Besides,” Dean continued. “It’s been a stressful couple of hours, and none of us are running at full capacity.”

“Fine.” Sam conceded. “I’m gonna go take a nap. Wake me if there’s any news.” He trudged off to his room, ignoring the way Cas and Dean drew together again as he left.

Sam flopped down on his bed, trying to clear his head. He was exhausted, but his mind felt like it was working overdrive. What was going on? Why were archangels falling? What were they going to do with Lucifer? And what was that voice he’d heard? Sam shuddered involuntarily, and punched his pillow into a more comfortable position. Was he going crazy? No, no, he’d probably just imagined it. It was nothing to worry about.

_Sam was in the Cage._

_It was dark, but Sam could see the dark red flames of Hellfire licking up the obsidian rock face in the distance._

_“Hey, Sammy.”_

_Sam whipped around, hand going for a gun that wasn’t there._

_“What’s wrong?” Lucifer pouted. “Don’t you like it here? It’s so nice and quiet...just the two of us.” The Devil spread his arms wide, gesturing at their surroundings. “There’s nothing to worry about down here, Sammy. No monsters, no angels, no responsibilities.” He paused. “No Dean.”_

_Sam rolled his eyes, turning away from the Devil. Lucifer made a disappointed sound, and appeared in front of Sam, a frown pulling at the sides of his mouth._

_“Think about it, Sammy.” Satan’s voice was soft, almost gentle, as he stepped closer to Sam. “No hunting. No pain. I can give you anything you want, for eternity. Don’t you want that?” Sam swallowed hard, trying not to look at Lucifer. The blonde man’s eyes were locked on him, and the hunter clenched his jaw before responding._

_“No.”_

_Lucifer’s ice-blue gaze dropped, and it felt as though a physical weight had come off Sam’s shoulders. He breathed a sigh of relief, turning away from the Devil once more._

_“There’s nothing you can offer me, Lucifer.” Sam squared his shoulders resolutely, eyes firmly locked on the wall of the Cage in front of him._

_“Nothing?” The Devil’s tone changed, sudden layers of honey coating his words. “Nothing at all?” Sam didn’t miss the suggestive undertone to Lucifer’s words, but he ignored it._

_“Nothing.” Sam returned confidently._

_“You think you could look me in the eyes and tell me that, Sammy?” Lucifer murmured, his breath hot on Sam’s neck. The hunter couldn’t repress a shiver. He hadn’t realized Lucifer had gotten that close to him._

_“I’d love to, but you’re too short for me to do that.” Sam didn’t miss the slight chuckle that escaped Lucifer, but it quickly faded into a dark, tense silence._

_“Oh, Sammy, the things you do to me.” Lucifer mused, tracing a finger down Sam’s neck. The hunter’s throat went suddenly dry, and he slapped the Devil’s hand away._

_“Stop.” He snarled roughly, turning to glare at Satan. Lucifer seemed unperturbed by Sam’s actions, and merely gave him a half-smile that quirked up his mouth. Sam made a frustrated noise, stalking away from the Devil. “Just leave me alone.”_

_“You don’t really want that, Sammy. If you did, you’d look me in the eye and tell me to kiss your denim-clad ass.”_

_Sam spun around, grabbing Lucifer by the lapels of his shirt. He pinned the Devil against the wall of the Cage, shouting; “You think I want this?! You think I want to be trapped here without my brother, without the people I love?! Do you honestly think I’d rather be spending my time with the damn Devil in a friggin’ cage than with my brother?!”_

_Lucifer gave him that damn half-smile again. “You can’t lie to me, Sammy. I’ve been in your head.” He tapped the side of Sam’s head. “I know what you want. I’m the little voice in the back of your head telling you to jump, because I know, deep down, you hate seeing yourself in the mirror.” Lucifer adopted a singsong voice. “Look at that pretty face. That face belongs in a courtroom, arguing law. You’ve got no business being a hunter, and you know it. You always have. You hate living this life. That’s why you ran away.”_

_“You don’t know anything about me!” Sam shouted, slamming Satan against the Cage._

_“I know everything.” Lucifer hissed. “Face it, Sam, we’re made for each other. The sooner you realize that, the better it’ll be, for both of us.”_

_“No.”_

_Lucifer sighed. “Okay. Keep telling yourself that, Sammy. But I’ll always be here, if you change your mind. I’ll never lie to you.”_

_Sam snorted derisively. “Sure thing, Satan. Thanks for being my buddy.”_

_“Always a pleasure, Sammy”_

“Sammy!”

Sam jerked awake, heart pounding. “What?” He called back, panic constricting his chest. Oh, god, what if Lucifer had escaped? He nearly fell out of bed in his rush to get to Dean, stumbling over a discarded flannel on his way out of his room.

“Easy there, tiger.” Dean stalled him as Sam burst into the kitchen. “You okay?” 

Sam blinked rapidly, nodding. “Yeah, yeah, fine. Bad dream.”

Dean frowned, concerned. “You want to talk about it?” Sam shook his head. “No, it’s fine. Just, you know, Satan.”

Dean huffed out a laugh. “Yeah, speaking of Satan, Cas thinks he’s found something. Turns out Heaven is freaking out because archangels are falling left and right, and someone asked if Satan had gotten free. Everyone seemed pretty sure that he was still locked up in the Cage.”

Sam pursed his lips, thinking. “So, what, Cas just happened to be in the right area when Lucifer got free, and no one else noticed? That’s not very likely.”

“Worse.” Dean said grimly. “Cas thinks Lucifer knew it was him, and chose to get out so that Cas would see him.”

“What are you saying?” Sam asked, feeling the familiar prickles of fear on the back of his neck.

“Lucifer knows Cas is close to us. He’s coming for you, Sam.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to try to shoot for chapters closer to this length in the future. Let me know if the mix of action and dialogue is easy to follow or not! I'm really enjoying writing this and I hope you're enjoying reading it.


	3. An Audience

Sam stood, speechless. Lucifer was coming for him. _Shit, shit, shit._ His head spun, and Dean, noticing his brother’s sudden nausea, pulled him into a chair.

“Hey, hey, Sam, it’s gonna be okay, all right?” Dean gave Sam a comforting smile, but Sam couldn’t meet his eyes. Sam shrugged helplessly. “How, Dean? Satan is in our basement, and he’s gunning for me.” Dean’s gaze dropped, shoulders slumping. He sighed. “Look, Sam, we’ll work something out. We always do.”

“Dean?” Cas’ voice broke the moment, and Sam leaned back, rubbing the back of his neck. “What?” Dean called back, and they waited silently for Cas to answer.

“Lucifer is requesting an audience.”

Dean made a noise of disgust in the back of his throat, stalking over to the dungeon stairwell. “We’re not giving that son of a bitch anything he wants, understand, Cas?” 

“It’s important, Dean.” The angel replied, frustration clearly evident in his voice. Dean turned to look at Sam, worry evident on the older hunter’s brow. 

“I’ll be fine, Dean.” Sam reassured him wearily. Dean looked for a moment as though he might protest, but thankfully, he let it go. 

Sam held his breath as he descended into the dungeon, fear constricting his throat. He knew it was stupid to be afraid. Cas was there, and Dean would never let Lucifer get near him. Still, he couldn’t quite shake the lingering dread that nipped at the back of his mind. Dean glanced back at him, and Sam gave him a tight-lipped, reassuring smile. Dean's forehead was still furrowed with worry, but he turned away from Sam, continuing into the darkness of the dungeon.

Sam closed his eyes for a long moment as they reached the end of the staircase. He took a slow breath, steeling himself for what was ahead. "You okay?" Dean asked in a low voice. Sam nodded. "I'm fine, Dean." His brother sighed, and Sam could tell that Dean disapproved of the situation. "Listen, I don’t like this any more than you do. It’s okay for you to be scared of Satan, but I don’t want you going down there if it’s going to affect your judgement." Sam nodded, swallowing with some difficulty. "I'll be fine, Dean. Let's just get this over with."

Dean came into Lucifer's line of sight first, Sam close behind him. The blonde man was relaxed, almost casual, despite being cuffed to a chair and surrounded by a burning ring of holy oil. 

"So glad you could join me." Lucifer's voice was neutral, but Sam couldn't help but shiver. The Devil's gaze was like ice piercing his skin, and Sam forced himself to stay calm. _He can't hurt you._ He reminded himself. _Dean and Cas are here. You're safe._

"What do you want?" Dean asked brusquely. Satan pouted. "I can't request company? It gets lonely down here, you know." Dean snorted derisively. "I bet it's lonelier in the Cage. Spill. What was so urgent?" Lucifer glared at the shorter hunter, and Sam breathed a minute sigh of relief that Lucifer's eyes were no longer on him. 

"Watch your tone." Lucifer said, his tone carefully measured, but with an unmistakable undercurrent of venom. Dean gave Lucifer a sardonic smile. "My apologies, Satan. What would you like to tell me?" Lucifer's eyes narrowed, and Sam was suddenly very aware of the short distance that separated the Devil from them. Handcuffs and some oil didn't seem like such good protection any more, and the tall hunter had to resist the urge to hide. Steeling himself, he stepped forward, and Lucifer's attention immediately returned to him. 

"Sammy, you were so quiet, I was getting worried. Cat got your tongue?" Lucifer smiled innocently, and Sam sighed. "Thanks for the concern for my safety, but I'm fine. What did you need an audience for?" Lucifer sat back as languidly as he could while cuffed, and a small part of Sam resented that the Devil was able to look so relaxed while bound to a chair. "Do the other angels still have their Grace?"

Sam shot Dean a confused glance, which Dean returned with equal mystification. "You mean the other angels that fell?" Sam asked. Lucifer cocked an eyebrow. "No, the ones still in Heaven. I'm ever so worried about them. Yes, the ones that fell." Sam rolled his eyes.

"The others that fell retained only a small portion of their Grace." Castiel rumbled, and Lucifer cocked his head to the side, considering the angel's words. "Interesting." Lucifer mused, absentmindedly picking at the wood of the chair with a fingernail. "Interesting how?" Dean snapped, clearly frustrated with Lucifer's unwillingness to talk.

"Interesting because I, despite being held in the Cage, seem to have retained the majority of my Grace. One would think that the bonds of the Cage would be more sturdy than that." Dean scoffed. "You needed an audience for this? Come on. This is crap." Dean started to turn away, but Lucifer spoke again. "I retained the majority of my Grace, Dean. Try to comprehend for a moment, with your limited understanding of the world, how important that is. Instead of having one Warrior of Heaven occasionally popping in, you now have an archangel living in your basement. Do you think that might cause any trouble in the future?"

Sam paled as the implication of Lucifer's words hit him. "Are people going to come looking for you?" Lucifer snorted. "People, hardly. Demons and angels and wee crawly beasties? Oh, most certainly. How secure is your bunker?" 

"If it was the safest place to bring you, then I assume it's fairly safe." Sam replied, worrying his bottom lip nervously. "Cas, what do you think?" The angel was silent for a moment. "I can't guarantee that it'll offer complete protection from anything searching for Lucifer. However, we don't have any alternatives at the present time, so I vote that we reinforce the warding around the bunker."

"Wait, wait, wait, aren't you forgetting something?" Dean interrupted. "We have Satan in our basement. One, we can't keep him here. Two, with all these angels falling, and who-knows-what going on in Heaven, our services are going to be in pretty high demand. What are we supposed to do with Satan when we have to hunting?"

Lucifer grinned in a distinctly sharklike fashion. "Ooh, Dean, that's a good point. What do you think, Cassie? Are you going to stand watch over me?" Cas looked disdainfully down at the archangel. "Be quiet, Lucifer." Lucifer made a face, and Sam let out a kind of desperate laugh. Everyone turned to look at him, and he quickly turned it into a cough. Dean's face went an alarming shade of red, and he grabbed the taller hunter, dragging him out of earshot.

"What the hell was that?" Dean hissed, pulling Sam down so that they were practically nose-to-nose. Sam was trembling, and he could feel sweat dripping down his temples. "Dean, this is insane! Satan, the Devil, the Lord of Darkness is in our basement! Sorry if I'm a little high-strung." Dean's face softened immediately. "Shit, Sammy, I'm sorry, I didn't realize-" Sam cut him off. "Don't call me that."

Dean froze. "Call you what?" Sam half turned, unable to look his brother in the eye. "Sammy. Don't call me Sammy." Dean frowned. "I've always called you Sammy." Sam let out a strangled, desperate noise. "Yeah, well, so does Satan." Dean snorted disbelievingly. "Really, Sam? I have to stop calling you something I've called you since we were kids because that blonde ass thinks it's a cute pet name?" Sam's shoulders tensed, and for a moment, Dean caught a glimpse of something broken in Sam's eyes. "Dean, please." Sam whispered imploringly. "I can't- please." His voice broke, and Dean couldn't help the noise of disgust that escaped him.

"This is ridiculous."

Sam flinched as though he'd been slapped. For a moment, it looked as though Dean might apologize. Then, something hardened in the older hunter’s eyes, and he spoke again. "Come on, Sammy, buck up. You're one of the best hunters alive. You've stopped the apocalypse more times than anyone I know. You've been soulless, infected with demon blood, and told the Devil to kiss your ass. Are you honestly asking me to stop calling you Sammy because you dislike it, or is it because you're afraid of Blondie over there?" 

Sam closed his eyes, swallowing around the lump in his throat. He should've known better than to try to make Dean understand. His brother was an expert at not dealing with his feelings, whereas Sam, on the other hand, had always been painfully aware of them. "I'm scared." Sam forced out, ignoring how his eyes stung and his voice cracked. Dean thumped him on the shoulder reassuringly. "There, see, that wasn't so hard, was it?" His brother's voice was quiet and calm, but Sam's skin crawled with every word Dean spoke. 

"Now, let's get our heads back in the game, and figure out what to do about Satan, okay?" Dean said encouragingly, his hand still gripping Sam’s shoulder. Sam nodded, allowing Dean to lead him back into earshot of the two angels. Castiel turned to face them, a question forming on his lips, but Dean brushed it aside. "We're fine." He stated gruffly, turning to face Lucifer again. The blonde man was still infuriatingly relaxed, and Dean resisted the urge to wipe that smug smile off his face.

"You said the bonds of the Cage should have been strong enough to keep you locked up. So, what changed?" Dean demanded, standing directly in front of Lucifer. The archangel sighed, as though Dean were a particularly slow student. "I don't know what changed, Dean." Lucifer sneered. "I've been imprisoned for the better part of my life. How should I know what's been weakening the Cage?"

Castiel rocked back on his heels as though he'd be struck. "Weakening the Cage?"

Lucifer settled back against the chair with an almost feline grace. "Someone gets it." He purred. "Yes, Cassie, weakening the Cage. Somebody's been chipping away at the bonding sigils enough so that I could escape, not to mention how much they'd have had to do in order for me to retain my Grace. So, tell me, who's been playing with fire up in Heaven?"

Dean shot Cas a suspicious look, his frown deepening. "You're saying that someone in Heaven has been messing with the Cage?" Castiel nodded, eyes still locked on Lucifer. "It would seem so. I don't know how else Lucifer's escape would be possible."

"Who would want Lucifer out of the Cage? And why?" Dean asked, his words hanging in the empty air as silence fell. Sam stepped back, away from the others, trying to get a hold of himself. Someone had broken Lucifer out of the Cage. Okay, fine. Someone had caused the archangels to fall. But why? None of this made sense. 

"You okay, Sammy?"

Sam looked up, dropping his hand from his chin. "Hmm? Oh, yeah, fine." He said distractedly, running a hand through his hair. He noticed that Dean and Cas were both staring at him like he'd grown another head. "What?" He asked defensively. 

"You told Satan you were okay."

Shit.

Lucifer's low chuckle echoed around the dungeon, sending chills down Sam's spine. “Oh, Sammy.” The Devil chided. “How silly of you, talking to the Devil. Now Dean’s gonna be worried. Why’s little Sammy talking to Satan? Is he okay?” Lucifer’s voice dropped into a low growl. “Can he be trusted?”

"Shut up." Sam snarled coldly. He could feel Cas' gaze on him, and knew that the angel and Dean were exchanged worried looks behind his back. Fury boiled under his skin. This was bullshit. He was the one who'd been tortured by the Devil, and yet here they were, wondering if he was going to say "yes". He was suddenly aware that he'd begun breathing heavily, and made a conscious effort to reel himself in.

"Careful there, Sammy." Chided Lucifer. "Don't want to get carried away, do you?" Sam started forward, almost crossing the circle of holy fire in his anger. Cas reached forward to stop him, but Sam slapped his hand away. "Enough." He spat. Lucifer's face was set in an expression of detached, mild interest, but his body betrayed his true emotions. The Devil was leaning forward, white knuckles clenching the arms of the chair. Sam looked down at Lucifer icily. The archangel's eyes were gleaming, his curved lips parting slightly as Sam glared down at him.

"Go on, Sam." Lucifer hissed. "Show them how out of control you are. Show them how desperate I've made you. _Show them_." The command was barely audible over the crackling of the fire, and Sam knew that neither Cas nor Dean had heard it. The tall hunter held Lucifer's gaze for a moment longer, before turning away, breaking the contact.

"If you've quite finished worrying that I'm going to say yes, can we get back to the issue at hand?" Sam snapped, his chin thrust up in challenge. Cas looked down, seemingly embarrassed, but Dean met his eyes without abandon. Sam could see the distrust in his brother's eyes, but he ignored it. They'd deal with that at another time.

“So, someone’s been messing with the Cage. Presumably, whoever’s responsible for your escape is also behind the rest of the archangels falling from Heaven. Is that a safe assumption?” Sam snapped, daring someone to disagree with him. No one gave him that satisfaction. Dean’s fists clenched at his sides as he nodded, his mouth compressed in a thin line. Castiel stared unblinkingly at the tall hunter, but made no move to disagree. After a moment of tense silence, the angel spoke. “I think that is a very reasonable assumption, Sam.” Sam sighed, inclining his head towards the angel in a gesture of thanks.

“I have something to discuss with Dean.” Cas announced. “You do?” Sam asked, brow furrowing in confusion. He shot a glance at Dean, who looked equally surprised. Even Lucifer cocked an eyebrow, peering curiously at the angel. “Yes.” Cas stated matter-of-factly. “Dean, if you would accompany me to the kitchen, I believe our discussion will be best merited in private.” The angel gave Dean a meaningful look, and the hunter opened his mouth in wordless protest. Cas ignored Dean’s obvious confusion, and dragged him up the stairs, leaving Sam alone with Lucifer.

“Told you so.”

Sam rolled his eyes, sighing loudly. “What did you tell me?” He intoned, affecting a bored tone. Lucifer inspected his fingernails, appearing disinterested in the hunter before him.

“I told you that you didn’t belong.”

Sam’s blood ran cold. His nightmare flooded back to him with terrifying clarity, and Sam felt suddenly very vulnerable. Lucifer noticed his unease, and Sam felt the weight of Satan’s gaze settle on him.

"You've been tortured by the Devil. You spent months in the Cage, having your soul torn to bits by the most powerful archangels in existence. When your poor, stupid brother returned your soul, you had hallucinations that drove you insane. But they still think you're going to say yes. They still don't think you can be trusted. Why do you suppose that is?"

Sam stared blankly at the archangel, refusing to respond. He knew that Lucifer was right. Hell, he'd said it himself. Cas and Dean thought he was going to fall off the wagon. He'd heard them arguing over whether he could be trusted. He hadn't expected Lucifer to pick up on it as well.

"I've been in your head, Sammy." Lucifer murmured softly. His voice was a gentle caress, full of warmth and understanding, and Sam shook his head. "Stop it, Lucifer. You're not going to convince me to say yes. You're not going to bring me onto your side. Get used to your chair." He started to walk away, but a soft remark from Lucifer stopped him.

"How does it feel to not be trusted?"

Sam turned slowly to face the Devil, not bothering to mask his anger. "Excuse me?" He growled, advancing towards Lucifer. Satan reclined back, meeting Sam's eyes fearlessly. "How does it feel to not be trusted?" Sam opened his mouth to reply, but Lucifer cut him off. "Well, it's not much different, now that I think about it. I suppose you're used to it."

Sam’s hands curled into fists at his side, and Lucifer could see the tendons standing out in the hunter’s neck. “You’re lucky you’re behind that holy oil, Lucifer, or I’d-” “What?” Lucifer scorned. “You’d beat me? Come on, Sammy, I know you better than that. You’re my little bitch. You won’t do anything.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoy writing it! I know I'm not the best author the Samifer tag has to offer but I'm trying and I love writing those two characters.


	4. Adventures in Distrust

Cas pulled a reluctant Dean into the kitchen, ignoring Dean’s attempts to break free from the angel’s grip.. “Come on, Cas, we can’t leave Sammy down there with Satan!” Dean protested, struggling to pull away from the angel. Cas slammed Dean roughly against a row of cabinets, raising an arm to press against Dean’s throat.

“Whoa, Cas, what are you-” “You lied to me, Dean.” The angel hissed, increasing the pressure against Dean’s throat. “Hey, calm down, man. What are you talking about?” Dean croaked, spots dancing before his eyes. 

“You told me that Sam would be fine to speak to Lucifer, but already he is weakening. You said that he would not be tempted. You _lied_.” The angel was livid, eyes dangerously bright as he glared at Dean. The hunter spluttered briefly, struggling vainly to alleviate the pressure on his throat. After a tense moment, Cas reluctantly let up, allowing a gasping Dean to slump against the cabinets.

“What the hell, man?” Dean gasped, massaging his throat. Cas glared at him wordlessly, eyes boring into the hunter until Dean sighed and straightened up.

“Look, Sam’s under a lot of pressure. Everything’s been happening really suddenly, and he hasn’t had time to process it. He slipped up today, but he didn’t break. One small crack doesn’t mean he’s going to break down and say yes or do something equally stupid.” Cas didn’t look convinced, and started to say something, before thinking better of it and closing his mouth.

“Sam’s one of the most stubborn people I know, Cas. God knows what happened to him in the Cage, but it was bad enough to drive him insane. Sam isn’t going to break.” Dean tried to put as much conviction into his words as possible, but they sounded hollow even to him. He had faith in Sam, sure, but he’d had faith in Sam when the kid was hallucinating Satan, and that hadn’t turned out well either. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Sam; he was just being realistic.

“I wish I had the same faith in Sam as you, Dean.” Cas sighed. “I will trust your judgement in this matter, for now, but we need to face facts. Lucifer has to be held somewhere safe, and your dungeon is currently the safest place. I will be needed in Heaven, and your services will be required across the country. The issue of what to do with Lucifer remains, regardless of Sam’s actions.”

Dean rubbed a hand along the stubble on his jaw, suddenly exhausted. The prospect of keeping watch over Satan for an indefinite period of time was daunting, to say the least. 

“What do you think we should do?” He replied, shoulder slumping. Cas hesitated. “Dean, I know you won’t like this, but perhaps you should...confine your hunting efforts to local areas for the time being.” Dean started to disagree, but Cas cut him off. “Your other options are leaving Lucifer alone for extended periods of time, or bringing him along with you.”

Defeated, Dean nodded in reluctant agreement. The angel had a point. As much as he hated to leave Satan alone in the bunker, bringing the Devil along with them on a hunt was asking for trouble. 

“What should we do with him in the meantime? Are you gonna be around, or do Sammy and I need to work out a schedule to watch Satan?” 

Cas hesitated, choosing his words carefully. “I don’t think it’s wise to allow Sam to keep watch over Lucifer.” Dean snorted derisively. “Come on, Cas. He’s having a hard time adjusting. You can’t blame him for that. But Sammy’s not going to break down.”

“Dean, I don’t have the same faith in your brother that you do, but this is not all about Sam. Lucifer drove Sam insane, and exposing Sam to Lucifer’s influences again is not a wise idea.” Castiel growled. Dean raised an eyebrow skeptically. “Cas, believe me, I don’t want Sam to go down that road again. But I can’t watch him 24/7, and you’ll be needed in Heaven.”

The angel sighed, inclining his head in a small gesture of agreement. “Very well, Dean. But for your brother’s sake, keep his time with Lucifer limited.”

“Why leave Sam down there now, then?” Dean asked, his tone taking on a note of challenge. Cas’ eyes narrowed. “We need to test his reaction to Lucifer while we are still able to influence him.” The angel replied evenly. Understanding dawned on the hunter, leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. 

“You’re...testing him.” Dean spat, the words leaving an acrid taste behind. “Yes.” Cas conceded. “I need to know that Sam will not give in to Lucifer. If he does…” The angel trailed off, the implication hanging in the silence between them. 

“If he does, then we can stop him.” Dean finished bitterly. He shook his head. “Christ, Cas, what happened to you?” The angel’s eyes hardened, and he stepped closer to the hunter. Dean took an unconscious step backwards, colliding with the cabinets behind him. Cas stopped, close enough that Dean could feel the angel’s heat through his clothes.

“You are not the only one who’s been hurt, Dean.” Cas snarled. “I have sacrificed more for you than you will ever know, and I will not see that sacrifice go to waste because of your brother’s vulnerability. Sam is strong, but he has broken too many times before for me to have faith in him. Lucifer will try to influence him, and he will succeed. We need to be prepared for that eventuality.”

Dean scoffed, but a small part of him agreed with the angel. Sam had fallen off the wagon plenty of times, and each time, it’d had disastrous consequences. Ruby, the demon blood, setting Lucifer free, running away, letting Lucifer drive him insane...his brother didn’t exactly have the best track record, especially where monsters were concerned. Hell, Sam had _slept_ with monsters, so what was there to stop him from giving in to the Lord of All Sin and Temptation? 

Dean shuddered, trying to dispel the mental image of his brother writhing in Satan’s lap. That was _not_ something he needed to see. Distracted, he ran a hand through his hair, and noticed Cas’ gaze was trained on him with an uncomfortable intensity.

“Uh, Cas, you good?” Dean asked, forcing out a high-pitched, shaky laugh. The angel shook himself. “Apologies, Dean. My thoughts were...elsewhere.” Dean raised an eyebrow. “Elsewhere?” 

Cas’ cheeks tinged with color, and Dean chuckled slightly. “I was intruding on your thoughts, to see if you would agree with me.” The angel began, and Dean’s laugh quickly turned into a cough. “I, ah, saw your...image of...well, I think you understand.” Cas finished lamely. Dean’s face was bright red, and he rubbed the back of his neck in an attempt to conceal his embarrassment.

“Yeah, I, uh, I don’t think we’ll have to worry about Sam sleeping with Satan.” Dean mumbled, staring at a spot on the ground behind the angel. Cas nodded quickly, swallowing hard. The silence stretched, hanging heavy in the space between them, before Dean heaved a sigh and stepped forward, putting a hand on the angel’s shoulder.

“Look, Sam’s made a lot of mistakes in the past. I know you don’t trust him, but give him a chance. He’s dealt with the Devil in the past, and he knows better than to do something stupid. If Sam messes up, we’ll deal with it, but for now, let’s focus on finding out what’s going on and making sure Satan’s secure, all right?”

Cas nodded, and Dean breathed a small sigh of relief. The last thing he wanted right now was to give a Satanic sex-talk to an Angel of the Lord. Thankfully, Cas seemed as eager to forget about it as Dean was.

“I’m gonna go get Sammy, okay?” Dean turned away, heading towards the steps down to the dungeon, but Cas stopped him.

“Dean?” The angel’s voice was quiet, hesitant, and Dean couldn’t help but stop. “What, Cas?” Cas refused to meet the hunter’s eyes, instead fixating on the ground.

“Would Sam ever...do we need to worry about him, ah, _giving in_ to Lucifer?” The angel asked awkwardly, looking for all the world as though he wanted to sink through the floorboards. Dean opened his mouth, reconsidered, and shut it again.

“I know you said we don’t need to worry, Dean, but do we need to take precautions of any kind?” The angel persisted. Dean made a noise of disgust, and resisted the urge to bludgeon himself with the nearby toaster. “Cas, honestly, I don’t want to-” “Dean, do you know what Lucifer did to Sam in the Cage?” Cas interrupted.

Dean paused, considering the angel’s words. Sam didn’t talk much about the Cage, but that was to be expected, and given that the memories drove him insane, well, Dean didn’t exactly press him on the subject. But if Cas was suggesting what Dean thought he was suggesting...the hunter’s brow furrowed.

“You think Satan seduced Sam or something?” Dean’s lip curled at the thought. No. There was no way Sam was _that_ stupid. 

“It’s possible,” Cas admitted. “And we have to consider every possibility. You said it yourself, your brother doesn’t have the best history when it comes to relationships with individuals of questionable character and low moral fiber.” Dean snorted. “Yeah, Cas, but they were girls, all right?” He half-shrugged, making a helpless sort of gesture with his hands. “Sam doesn’t swing that way, and he’s not going to bend over for Satan.” Cas opened to his mouth to protest, but Dean cut it off. “Can it, Cas. That’s final.” 

Cas’ eyes flashed dangerously. “Fine.” He snarled. “Let’s go retrieve your brother then, and see how well he’s fared.”

“Fine.” Dean snapped back, following the angel to the staircase that led down into the dungeon. 

They slowly descended into the darkness, Dean keeping his eyes locked on the back of Cas’ head. A few steps from the bottom, Cas stopped, and Dean swore quietly as he almost ran into the angel. Cas motioned for him to be quiet, and Dean immediately clammed up, cocking an eyebrow inquisitively. The angel rolled his eyes, then cupped a hand over his ear, miming listening. Dean nodded, and leaned slightly over the bannister, straining to hear the low voices coming from the center of the dungeon.

“Why do you think they don’t trust you, hmm?” The Devil’s voice was quiet and persuasive, and it made Dean’s skin crawl. 

“Shut up, Satan.” Sam snarled back. Dean felt a vicious surge of pleasure at Sam’s anger.

“Oh, Sammy, you poor stupid creature.” Satan tsked. “You really don’t know? Come on, Sam, you’re smarter than this. Dig around in that little brain of yours, you’ll figure it out. They think you’re gonna fall of the wagon and into my arms. Why do you suppose that is?”

Dean could picture Sam’s scowl as his brother responded. “I don’t exactly have the best track record, since you’re so concerned.” 

Lucifer’s laugh was cold and sharp, like ice and nails across Dean’s skin. “Oh, _Sammy_.” The Devil’s voice was full of mirth, the creaking of wood signaling that he had leaned forward in his chair. “Do you really not remember any of the Cage?”

Dean sucked in a breath, earning himself a sharp glare from Cas. There was a moment of silence, and Dean held his breath, silently praying that his brother hadn’t heard him.

“No.” Sam replied cautiously, and Dean let out a small sigh of relief. He leaned over the bannister, craning his neck so that he could see the other occupants of the dungeon. Sam was a few feet away from Satan, his arms crossed over his chest defiantly. Satan was leaning forward, his face hidden from Dean.

“Would you like me to enlighten you?”

There was an unmistakable undercurrent of persuasion to the Devil’s voice, and Dean resisted the urge to interrupt before this could go any further. He was undeniably curious, but his gut twisted with nervous tension. _Something’s going to go wrong_.

Sam’s mouth twisted slightly as the tall hunter chewed on his lip. The Devil was leaning so far out his chair that the leather over his wrists was straining and creaking, but Sam didn’t seem at all fazed by Satan’s eagerness. After a moment’s deliberation, the tall hunter nodded, and the Devil sat back, lounging across the chair with an air of supreme smugness.

“Well, bunk buddy, let me tell you, we were a lot closer in the Cage then we are here.” The Devil said cheerfully, snickering slightly as Sam pulled a face. “Spare me the theatrics, and give me the important stuff, Lucifer.”

Satan sighed, examining his fingernails. “If you insist.” He said mournfully. Sam snorted and rolled his eyes. Satan seemed to get the hint, and he sat up straighter, looking at the hunter head-on. He took on a more businesslike tone, and could’ve been reading figures from an accounting sheet rather than explaining Sam’s traumatic experiences.

“Being exposed the the Grace of an archangel for extended periods of time is extremely damaging, especially to a human. You, Sam, are a special case, because you were locked in the Cage with not one but _two_ archangels, me and Michael. My brother and I fought, as I’m sure you can image, and you received a great deal of the fallout from our Graces.”

Sam frowned. “So you’re telling me that the reason my soul was so torn up was because you two tore it to shreds?”

The Devil winced slightly, shaking his head. “Not quite, although that’s not a bad way to put it. You weren’t exactly a priority in the Cage. It’s more like...we weren’t shielding you from our Graces. Here, think of it this way: An angel’s Grace is like a nuclear bomb. There’s harmful radiation that comes from it, and prolonged exposure has severe consequences. Your experience in the Cage would be like living in a nuclear testing site without any protection.” 

Sam let out a low whistle, nodding slowly. “You talk a good game, Lucifer. But I’m not buying it.” “No?” The Devil cocked his head. “Why not?”

“Because you drove me insane, Lucifer, that’s why. If you’re telling the truth, and the Cage was just exposure to something dangerous, then why did you drive me insane?”

Satan shrugged. “Your mind didn’t know how to process two archangels fighting, so it created its own explanation. Being tortured by the Devil is a good reason for incurring such damage, and it was one you could handle.”

Sam snorted disbelievingly. “Right. Sure. And I’m supposed to believe you why, exactly?”

The Devil lifted a shoulder in a noncommittal gesture. “Fine. Don’t. Doesn’t make a difference to me. But my snooping little brother and his friend Dean are looking for reasons to distrust you, so I’d suggest you come up with an explanation of your own, fast.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't intend for Dean and Cas to be assholes, but that seems to be the direction they're going. Also, while this story is pretty lacking in Samifer right now, it is going to pick up in later chapters, I promise. The plot keeps getting in the way.


	5. Satanic Mind Games

Shit.

Dean shot Castiel a panicked look, and saw that the angel looked equally disturbed. “How did he know we were here?” Dean hissed. “Shouldn’t his angel-sense be disrupted by the holy oil?”

“Please, Dean, give me a little credit.” Satan called. “I _am_ a celestial being.” 

“Yeah, well, your celestial-being powers shouldn’t be working!” Dean shouted back, ignoring the _shut up_ look Cas sent his way.

“I also have ears.” Satan said cheerfully, smiling sunnily as Dean and Cas descended the stairs. Sam stiffened, tensing as Dean and Cas came into view. Fear flickered across his face as he realized that they’d been listening, and he frantically tried to think of a way to defend himself.

“We were just talking-” Sam started to explain, vainly attempting to keep his voice level. The words died in his throat as Cas gave him a cold, contemptuous look.  
“Spare us, Sam. We heard you discussing the Cage.” 

Sam’s throat tightened, panic setting in. He opened his mouth to explain, but Lucifer saved him from having to respond.

“Oh, come on, Cassie, don’t be such a poor sport.” He chided. “If I remember correctly, the reason Sammy had hallucinations and went insane was because _somebody_ broke down the wall in his mind. Now, who would do such a thing?”

Dean gaped at Lucifer like a fish out of water, disbelievement etched plainly across his features. Sam held his breath, watching Castiel carefully. The angel’s eyes were narrowed, his face a mix of emotions. Fury, regret, and astonishment battled for dominance, and after a moment’s silence, Castiel’s features arranged themselves into a blank mask, the angel refusing to show any emotion.

“I made a mistake.” Castiel snarled, his voice betraying his anger even if his face showed nothing. Lucifer raised an eyebrow.  
“A mistake? Well, in that case, you should be forgiven for your mistake, because you meant no harm by it. Just like, say, Sam meant no harm in talking to me about the Cage.” The archangel lifted his chin defiantly, his eyes cold and locked on Castiel. A muscle worked in the younger angel’s jaw, before he broke Lucifer’s gaze, turning away from the Devil.

“Okay, I’m thinking I should take the first shift of watching Satan, and you two should go cool off.” Dean suggested carefully, watching Cas to monitor the angel’s reaction.  
“Do you really think you should leave Castiel alone with Sam, Dean?” Lucifer asked innocently. Dean glared at him.  
“Well, I’m sure as hell not leaving Cas alone with you, and I think Sam’s spent plenty of time with you already.” Dean spat, turning his back to the Devil.

“Dean, I’ll be fine.” Sam tried, but Dean snapped.  
“No, Sam, you’re not. You’re already slipping towards the back of the wagon, and I’m not about to have you falling off it so soon.” Sam let out a frustrated sigh.  
“I’ll bring down my laptop and some headphones. I won’t have to hear a thing Lucifer says to me, and I can look for a case while you two cool off. I’ll be fine.” The younger Winchester spread his arms in an open, compromising gesture. Dean glared suspiciously at his sibling for a moment longer, before conceding with a sigh. 

“Fine. But if you need anything, you call me, okay?” Sam nodded, smiling reassuringly. Dean didn’t look convinced, but he reluctantly left, dragging a still-fuming Castiel behind him.

“That went well.” Lucifer offered amiably. Sam gave him a contemptuous glance, crossing quickly over to the steps.  
“I’ll be right, back, Luci. Don’t go anywhere.” The archangel smiled reassuringly, his eyes tracking Sam’s movements as the hunter disappeared up the stairs. 

Sam returned a few minutes later, making his way slowly down the steps, careful to not drop any of the objects his arms were laden with. Lucifer let out a low whistle as the hunter came into view. “Think you’ve got enough stuff there, Sammy?” 

Sam rolled his eyes, but there was no venom in the gesture. He set down his things, balancing them carefully on the dungeon floor. Lucifer raised an eyebrow as he took in what Sam had brought down. There was the hunter’s laptop, a set of headphones, a bag of Veggie Straws, and several dusty books on lore. 

“Planning to be here long, Sam?” Lucifer asked casually, relaxing into his chair.  
“We’re going to be watching you in eight-hour shifts. I thought I’d be prepared.” The hunter shrugged, settling down in a chair across from Lucifer. The corner of the Devil’s mouth twitched in an inscrutable gesture as Sam busied himself with his laptop, ignoring Lucifer. 

A little while later, Sam was still occupied with the internet, and Satan was getting bored. The hunter had barely spoken since his watch had began, and the Devil wanted to have a bit of fun with him. Or even a conversation. Being a prisoner was boring, and it seemed he’d traded in the Cage for a dungeon. It was hardly an improvement.

“It’s just the two of us, Sammy.” Lucifer murmured, using a tiny amount of Grace to ensure that the hunter heard him. Sam twitched slightly, but didn’t look up from his screen. Lucifer paused, debating how best to approach the hunter. Sam didn’t seem eager to talk about the Cage, though perhaps that was out of fear for the repercussions from his brother and Castiel.

“Why do you let Dean boss you around?”

Bingo.

Sam looked up immediately, several emotions flashing across his face. The hunter’s brow furrowed, eyes narrowing suspiciously as he glared at the Devil.

“I don’t let him boss me around.” Sam responded sharply. Lucifer blinked, widening his eyes in mock surprise.  
“Really? It sure seems like he’s the boss of things. Daddy’s favorite, wasn’t he? I can tell.”

Sam’s expression darkened, and he turned up the volume on his computer, turning away from Lucifer. Satan smiled widely, and continued, pouring a touch of Grace into his voice to make sure it reached the hunter.

“Haven’t you worked it out yet? Dean was Daddy’s favorite, and he takes after ol’ John in more respects than you’d care to admit. You’re so guilt-ridden from every mistake you’ve ever made that you don’t dare question your brother, and he uses that to his advantage. How many times has Dean guilted you into doing something? How many times has he hinged his trust on whether or not you’ll do what he says? Come on, Sam, you’re a smart boy. You might’ve escaped John, but Dean sure didn’t, and you haven’t escaped Dean.”

A muscle worked in the hunter’s jaw, and Lucifer watched, fascinated, as Sam took a deep breath and turned back to the Devil.

“Stop talking. Right now.”

Lucifer hummed appreciatively, mirth dancing in his eyes. “Why, Sammy? Am I hitting too close to home?” Sam stood, his movements measured and controlled, and advanced slowly towards the Devil. Lucifer relaxed languidly into his chair, subtly shifting his posture to a more submissive stance. Sam stopped at the edge of the holy oil, his face illuminated by the fire, giving the hunter a haunted, angular look.

“You listen to me, you son of a bitch.” Sam snarled. “You’re wrong. Dean’s not Dad, and he never has been. You’re just trying to get into my head, and it’s not going to work. Not this time. You understand me?”

Lucifer drew back, faking shock. “Why, Sammy, such anger! I never knew you had it in you! Oh, wait,” The Devil’s voice dropped into a menacing snarl. “I did.” The hunter’s head jerked as if he’d been slapped. 

“You see, Sam,” Lucifer continued. “I’ve been in the deepest, darkest corners of your head. I know what makes you tick. I see those naughty little thoughts you have, the ones that whisper to you that maybe Dean-o isn’t the perfect older brother that you build him up to be. I know that, deep down, you still want to be Sam Winchester, attorney at law, with a house in the suburbs, a white picket fence, and Jess.”

Sam nearly crossed the holy fire in his rage. His face turned an alarming shade of red, and for a moment, Lucifer thought the hunter might choke in his effort to swallow his anger. After taking a moment to compose himself, Sam turned his back to the Devil, putting his hands over his ears in an attempt to block Lucifer out.

“Sam, don’t you get it? You’ve never been able to escape this life. Hell, you tried, and look what happened. People died. I _understand._ I’ve been there. Overbearing older brother? Check. Daddy issues? Old news. I get it, Sammy.” Lucifer’s voice was soft, understanding, warm, even. Sam shook his head, refusing to look at the Devil. 

“Spare me the speech, Luci. I’ve heard it already, and it doesn’t change anything.” Sam said, shoulders slumping. Despite his defiant tone, a small part of the hunter agreed with what Lucifer was saying. He’d never wanted to be a hunter. Every time he tried to escape the life, it found some way of roping him back in, usually by hurting anybody close to him. As messed up as it was, Satan was probably the only person who knew what it was like to have the family relationships that Sam had had.

Sam let out a broken, choked laugh. “Man, I am messed up.” He said shortly, shaking his head. Lucifer inclined his head, conceding the point.  
“True. But, honestly, would you expect anything else?”  
Sam shrugged, and it struck him that he shouldn’t be conversing with the Devil, especially not since said Devil had driven him insane, and only moments ago had nearly driven Sam into breaking the ring of holy fire.

“Well, it’s been nice chatting with you, Luci, but I’ve gotta do some research.” Sam said. Lucifer propped himself up on one knee through Satanic contortionism, looking for all the world like an eager puppy.  
“I can help!” He offered brightly. Sam laughed shortly.  
“No, Luci, I don’t think you can. Unless, of course, you know who weakened the Cage, and want to help us figure out how to put you back in.” Lucifer pouted. Sam smiled in spite of himself, and returned to scouring the internet for any explanation of Lucifer’s sudden reappearance from the Cage.

Sam stared at the screen of his computer, trying to force himself to focus. His mind kept returning to Lucifer’s words, and despite his harsh denials, the hunter knew Lucifer was right. Hell, Lucifer had pulled those words from Sam’s brain, so it wasn’t like Lucifer could be lying to him. _“I’ll never lie to you, Sam.”_ Lucifer’s words echoed in Sam’s head, and he shook himself, trying to dispel the archangel’s voice. _No wonder they think you’re going to fall off the wagon._ He scolded himself. _It hasn’t even been a day and you’re already agreeing with Satan. Get a hold of yourself._

Still, it wasn’t as though Lucifer was an entirely unwelcome distraction. The archangel seemed to have boundless energy, and his spirit didn’t seem at all dampened by his imprisonment. It made for a nice change of pace from Cas’ pining and Dean’s alcoholism, although it came at the small price of keeping Satan in the basement. Sam scrutinized the archangel for a moment. Lucifer seemed relaxed, lounging across his chair with the flexibility of a gymnast, content in his ring of holy fire and handcuffs. The hunter was torn between the suspicion that the Devil was up to something, and amusement at how cheerful he was.

“Like what you see, Sammy?”

Sam jerked, flushing slightly as he realized he’d been caught staring. Lucifer’s eyes gleamed with amusement, and he flicked a forked tongue out across his curved lips. Sam flushed harder, ducking his head to avoid the tingling heat that spread up his neck. Lucifer winked at the hunter, chuckling as Sam turned away in embarrassment. 

“Come on, Sammy, there’s no shame in looking.” Lucifer purred. “Unless you were planning on doing more, in which case, well, I’m flattered.” The archangel batted his eyes at the hunter, making Sam to snort.  
“I wasn’t...forget it.” Sam shook his head, trying to ignore the disappointment that settled across Lucifer’s features.

“I won’t tell if you don’t.” Lucifer offered, opening his hands palm-up as though he’d proposed a deal. Sam stared incredulously at the archangel for a moment.  
“You’re kidding, right?”  
Lucifer shrugged. “I’m not the type to kiss and tell.”  
Sam scoffed. “No, I mean, you honestly think I’d consider doing that with you?”

Lucifer’s eyes flashed mischievously. “You already have.”

Sam’s head snapped back as though he’d been slapped. “What?” He yelped, shock evident in his voice. Lucifer cocked an eyebrow.  
“You _really_ don’t remember the Cage, do you?” Satan’s voice was dripping with suspicion, as though he suspected that this was a trick of some kind. Sam shook his head, forehead furrowed in confusion.  
“Are you saying we…” His face twisted in revulsion, and Lucifer tutted disapprovingly, shaking his head like a disappointed teacher.

“Sammy, I’ve been in your head, remember? Do you really think that your little fantasies would escape my notice? And, let me tell you, you have quite the active imagination.” Lucifer gave Sam a saucy wink, which only served to make the hunter more nauseous.  
“No, I-No!” Sam protested, heat prickling the back of his neck. Lucifer shot him a set of bedroom eyes that made the hunter forget how to breathe for a moment, and chuckled darkly. 

Lucifer paused for a moment, then added “I’m only joking, Sammy.” Sam’s shoulders slumped with relief. “But I had you going there, didn’t I? You’d better get a hold of your subconscious, or it’ll be the death of you. Quite literally, perhaps.” Lucifer nodded seriously, as though he and Sam were discussing philosophy rather than Sam’s sexual fantasies. 

“So much for never lying to me.” Sam commented, trying to dispel the lingering tension in the room. Lucifer pouted, offended.

“That was low, Sam.”

Sam shrugged, unperturbed. “Pardon me if I get defensive, Satan. You’re the one trying to bribe me into sleeping with you.”

“You started it.” Lucifer replied petulantly.

Sam rolled his eyes, turning back to his work. He could feel Lucifer’s gaze on his back, but, oddly, it didn’t feel as intense as before. It felt... _thoughtful_ , as though Sam was a puzzle the archangel couldn’t wait to solve. Sam’s throat constricted, and the hunter swallowed with difficulty as it occurred to him that Lucifer could take him apart with barely as much as a wink in Sam’s general direction. 

_Get a hold of yourself._ He told himself. _He’s the Devil, of course he’s going to mess with you. Sit down and do some research._ Sam turned away from his Satanic companion, forcing himself to focus on archangels and Biblical lore instead of his impending sexual crisis.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to be out of town for a few days, so I thought I'd get this up before I left. Updates will return to the Mondays next week.
> 
> Of course, my Samifer has to begin with them arguing, because apparently all my characters want to do is yell at each other. Oh well. I'll get there eventually.


	6. The Devil's In The Details

By the time Dean came to relieve him from his watch, Sam’s head was pounding, and he was in desperate need of a nap and a sandwich.

“You good?” Dean asked, examining his brother at arm’s length. 

“Yeah, fine, just tired.” Sam waved him off, collecting his things. Lucifer cocked his head, and Sam’s headache immediately vanished. The tall hunter sent Lucifer a suspicious glance, but the archangel was staring avidly at the ceiling, ignoring the existence of the two hunters. 

“Okay, well, you get some rest, you hear me?” Dean said gruffly, oblivious to the exchange between Sam and Lucifer. Sam nodded, giving his brother a tight-lipped smile, and exited the dungeon, glancing back at Lucifer one last time before he drew out of sight.

Sam let out a long breath, slumping against the wall of the kitchen. _Christ, what a day._ His stomach growled loudly, and Sam reluctantly pulled open the fridge door. After a moment’s rummaging, he emerged with a can of Coke and a bowl of leftover pasta. He ate slowly, trying to settle his nerves. He’d just spent eight hours alone with Satan, and it’d been draining, to say the least. Lucifer was just as slippery as he’d been before the Cage, and seemed to have just as much boundless energy as Sam’s hallucinations of him.

Sighing, the tall hunter set the now-empty bowl in the sink, tossing his Coke into a recycling bin. He leaned against the counter for a moment, closing his eyes. Lucifer was in his basement. Satan was living in their dungeon, and he was going to be there until they could figure out a way to shove him back into the Cage. _If_ there was a way to put him back.

Sam groaned, cradling his head in his hands. _I need a nap._ He traipsed towards his room, silently praying that he didn’t run into Cas on his way there. Normally he didn’t mind the angel, but after today, their trenchcoat-clad friend was the last person he wanted to see. Luckily for Sam’s sanity, he made it without incident, and collapsed fully-clothed onto his bed without having to deal with Cas’ suspicion.

_Sam was running through the woods, branches whipping against his face as he bolted through the trees. The snarl of Hellhounds grew louder, and Sam swore violently, not daring to glance behind him. His foot caught on a root, and he fell, the ground beneath him opening up into a yawning abyss of blackness. He plummeted into the darkness, mouth locked in a silent scream._

_The wind was knocked out of him as his descent was abruptly stopped. Sam groaned, sitting up, his shoulder aching from where it had collided with the ground. He looked around, confusion setting in as he took in his surroundings. There weren’t any structures in sight, no walls, no ground, or trees, just darkness. The yelping of Hellhounds had stopped, and Sam shivered as a breath of wind ghosted across the back of his neck._

_“Hello?” He called, his voice echoing in the darkness._

_No response._

_Sam stood, surveying his surroundings warily. As he turned in a slow circle, he caught a glimpse of a pair of gleaming red eyes, and his blood ran cold. A figure stepped out of the shadows, and Sam tried to run, but he was rooted to the ground in fear._

_“Hello, Sammy.”_

_“Lucifer.” Sam breathed, swallowing hard._

_“So nice of you to join me.” Lucifer replied mildly. A table and two chairs appeared out of nowhere, and Lucifer sat in one. “Won’t you join me?” He asked, gesturing to the other, unoccupied chair. Sam approached the table, warily taking his seat, his eyes never leaving Lucifer._

_“Is this real?”_

_Lucifer smiled, and something about it set Sam’s teeth on edge. “Would you like it to be?” The archangel’s blue eyes pierced Sam, pinning him to the back of his chair. Sam swallowed hard, taking a moment to survey Lucifer before responding._

_“No.”_

_Lucifer raised an eyebrow, amused. “No?” He asked. “Why not?”_

_“Because if this is real, then we’re in a lot of trouble.”_

_Lucifer laughed, a bright, cold sound that shattered the darkness of their surroundings. The tension went out of Sam’s shoulders as the archangel’s shoulders shook with mirth, and the hunter let out a small sigh of relief._

_“So, while we’re here, what shall we talk about?” Lucifer mused, absentmindedly examining his fingers. Sam tracked the movement unconsciously, hazel eyes examining every inch of the archangel’s hands. Lucifer noticed, and the corner of his mouth curved into a smile, his bowed lips parting slightly._

_“It’s an interesting sensation; being able to feel flesh and blood.” Lucifer commented, stretching his hand out in front of him and curling the fingers individually into a fist. Sam frowned. “You...couldn’t before?”  
The archangel twitched a shoulder upwards in a shrug. “Nick was always in here,” He tapped the side of his head. “And now it’s just me.” _

_“Wait, Nick’s gone? How’d that happen?”_

_“I imagine the Cage didn’t sit well with him.” Lucifer replied evenly, watching Sam closely. “Does that bother you?” Sam frowned._

_“No.”_

_Lucifer raised an eyebrow. “You don’t sound very sure, Sammy.” Sam opened his mouth, but didn’t say anything for a moment._ This is my dream. _He told himself._ I control where it goes.

_“I don’t want to talk about vessels.” He stated, lifting his chin defiantly. Lucifer shrugged noncommittally.  
“Whatever you say, boss.” He smiled, his gaze clear and cold as he stared at Sam. The hunter swallowed nervously. If it really was his dream, then he could control it, right? Time to test that theory._

_“Say something nice about my brother.”_

_Lucifer tipped his head back, his shoulders shaking with laughter. “Seriously, Sammy?” He grinned, a sharklike expression that exposed a few too many teeth._

_“Just do it.” Sam snapped._

_Lucifer sighed, taking a deep breath to quell his amusement. “Very well. Dean is an excellent hunter.” He spread his hands. “Happy?”_

_Sam nodded jerkily, his mind racing. As long as he was asleep, he could control Lucifer. No more nightmares about the Cage, no more waking up in the middle of the night drenched with sweat, no more fear every time he closed his eyes._

_“Stand up. Come stand next to me.” Sam ordered, his mouth feeling as though it was full of cotton. Lucifer complied, rising and moving to stand beside Sam, hands folded dutifully behind his back. Sam swallowed hard, suddenly aware of the distance between them. He looked up at the archangel, who stared back unabashedly._

_“Anything else you’d like me to do, sir?” Lucifer’s eyes gleamed playfully. Sam started to scoff, then caught himself. If none of this was real, then what was the harm in playing along? He could grill Lucifer for information about the Cage without fear of interruption._

_“Considering my offer? That’s not like you.” Lucifer commented, arching an eyebrow. Sam shrugged._

_“Desperate times, desperate measures. I need to know everything you know about the Cage, as it pertains to your escape.” He returned, watching Lucifer carefully. Satan rocked back on his heels slightly, the tip of his forked tongue coming out to rest on his bowed lips._

_“That’s a dangerous thing to ask, Sammy.” Lucifer replied evenly._

_“Why?” Sam asked, lifting his chin defiantly. He stood, so that the archangel would have to look up at him, and continued. “Why is it dangerous to ask? Hell, it’s probably the_ least _dangerous thing I could ask. Finding a way to put you back in the Cage is my number one priority right now, so tell me, what should I be asking you?” His voice dripped with contempt, but Lucifer appeared unfazed._

__

_“Mmm, Sammy, I expected better of you, I really did.” Lucifer tutted disapprovingly, acting for all the world as though he was a disappointed teacher whose favorite student had failed a test. “You see, you shouldn’t be asking how to put me back, or how I got out. You should be asking why, if this isn’t real, I’m not real, and this is your dream and you control it, are you still dreaming about me?”_

__

_“Because we need information.” Sam answered immediately._

__

__

_“Okay.” Lucifer said slowly, inclining his head. “But I’m not real, so what will I know?”_

__

__

_Sam paused, stumped. “My subconscious is a stickler for details, isn’t it?”_

__

__

_“‘Fraid so, kiddo.” Lucifer smiled. “You tend to not leave anything out. Like, say, those Hellhounds that were at the beginning of this dream.”_

__

__

_Sam’s blood ran cold as he heard the telltale scraping of claws on rock and snarls from behind him._

__

__

_“Sweet dreams, Sammy.” Lucifer said, fading into blackness as the Hellhounds lept forward, their hot breath hitting Sam like a wave, sharp teeth tearing into him as he fell painfully to the ground. He screamed in agony as they ripped him apart, flailing wildly in an attempt to escape._

Sam bolted awake, breathing hard, his sweat-soaked shirt clinging to him. His throat was raw from shouting, the blankets tangled hopelessly around him. _So much for “no more nightmares”._ Groaning, he sat up, pushing sweaty hair off of his forehead. He looked around his room warily, half expecting Lucifer to emerge from the shadows. When Satan didn’t appear, Sam slumped back against his pillows, trying to calm his breathing.

_It was just a dream._ He told himself, pressing his palms against his closed eyes. _It was a nightmare, and it sucked, but it’s over now. You’re okay. There’s no Hellhounds, and Lucifer is locked up in the basement. You’re fine._

“Sam?”

Dean’s voice, muffled by Sam’s closed door, was serious. His brother rapped sharply on the door, all business.  
“Come on, Sammy, get up. We’ve got a case.”

Sam fumbled for a moment, scrabbling frantically to untangle himself from his blankets. After a brief struggle, he freed himself, and got up to open the door. Dean stood outside, brow furrowed with irritation.  
“Took you long enough.” Dean grumbled. 

“Good morning to you, too.” Sam replied. “What’s up?”

“It’s a standard salt-and-burn, about two towns over. Cas is on loan from archangel-finding duty to watch Satan for now, and we need to figure out what to do with him while we’re away.”

Sam stopped. “Wait, we’re just gonna leave _Lucifer_ in our basement? Lucifer, the Lord of All Evil, the literal Devil, is going to be unsupervised in the bunker? How is that a good idea?”

Dean whirled around, and his glare might have been intimidating if he wasn’t several inches shorter than Sam. “Well, Sammy, if you’re so smart, then what are we supposed to do? Cas has things to do in Heaven, and we can’t stop hunting. I’m sure as hell not leaving you here alone with him, and-”  
“And you don’t think I can do a simple salt and burn by myself?” Sam said disbelievingly. “Are you friggin’ kidding me, Dean? I was a hunter, by myself, for a year while you were eating mashed potatoes with Lisa and Ben! Did you forget about that small detail?”

Dean’s jaw clenched. “I wasn’t going to say that.”  
Sam snorted. “Yeah, Dean, I’m sure you wouldn’t _say_ that you don’t trust me. You’d just _strongly imply_ it. Cut the crap. We need to figure out what we’re going to do with Lucifer, and since I’m clearly incapable of being trusted, what are our options?”

A vein throbbed in Dean’s temple, but he reined in his emotions and when he spoke, it was with carefully concealed anger just under the surface.

“Either one of us stays behind, which isn’t a good idea, because then we’d be hunting alone, or we both hunt and hope that Cas can watch Satan until we’re back.”

Sam chewed his bottom lip, considering his words before he spoke.

“We could...bring Lucifer with us?” He suggested, refusing to meet Dean’s eyes. His brother went dangerously silent, his eyes dark and fixed on Sam. The taller hunter swallowed hard, fear closing his throat. 

“Why would we bring Satan with us?” Dean asked, his voice harsh and loud in the confines of the narrow hallway.

“We could pretend he’s a prisoner we’re escorting. We were passing through, heard about the death, and thought we’d check it out. We could have Cas carve some Enochian warding into some handcuffs, and then we’d still be able to keep an eye on Lucifer without worrying about him escaping.” Sam said quickly, trying to assuage his brother’s anger. There was a moment of silence, Sam’s heart pounding loudly in his ears as Dean considered Sam’s proposal.

“On one condition.”

“Name it.”

“We keep Satan bound and gagged at all times.”

“Done.” Sam agreed, trying to hide his relief. Dean was clearly unhappy with the prospect of bringing Satan along on a hunt, and, truth be told, gagging the talkative archangel was probably a good idea.  
“Dean, believe me, I wouldn’t suggest this if I thought there was a better option.” 

Dean didn’t spare his brother a second glance as he replied “Whatever, Sam. You want your Satanic cuddle buddy, you’ve got him. But that son of a bitch isn’t going to be able to speak, much less run away, while he’s on this hunt with us. Don’t think I won’t notice if either of you try anything funny.”

Sam’s heart sank though the wooden floorboards as his brother walked away from him. He opened his mouth to protest, or at least to say that Lucifer was as far from his cuddle buddy as physically possible, but no words came to mind. Sam stood, speechless, as his brother left him behind, not caring to check if Sam was following him.

“Binding Lucifer with handcuffs is risky, Dean.” Cas said, frowning. The hunters had joined the angel in the dungeon, standing just out of earshot of Lucifer. Satan didn’t bother trying to hide his interest in their conversation, his eyes following Sam as the tall hunter shifted nervously.  
“We know it’s a risk, Cas, but it’s the plan.” Dean said, his tone indicating that it wasn’t up for discussion. Cas’ gaze flickered briefly between the two hunters, as though he could discern the argument purely by looking at them. The angel’s frown deepened, but he didn’t press the matter further.

“The most difficult part of bringing Lucifer on this hunt will be transporting him.” Cas continued. “If I bind him so that he is unable to fly, then you will have to use more... _conventional_ methods of transportation.”

Dean’s face twisted. “You mean, Baby?” He sounded disgusted, and Sam couldn’t blame him. Dean’s love for the Impala was perhaps only matched by his love for liquor and anime porn, and having the Devil in the backseat was a less than appealing prospect. 

Cas nodded apologetically. “I’d recommend keeping him as close as possible at all times, to prevent him from making any attempts at escaping.”

Dean sighed. “So, we’re keeping Satan on a leash, fine. How are we supposed to get a motel with him in cuffs? No one in their right mind is gonna let a prisoner into their motel, even if he’s under lock and key.”

“We could put him in the local drunk tank, and one of us could keep watch.” Sam offered.  
“That seems to be a good plan.” Cas agreed. Dean glanced at Sam, his features heavy with suspicion, but nodded. 

“Okay, that sounds like a plan. I’ll go stock up the Impala, and Sam can look into the case more and make sure we don’t have any nasty surprises when we get there.” Dean said, stalking out of the dungeon. Sam didn’t miss the unspoken message in his brother’s words: Don’t mess up. Sighing, he nodded to Cas, and followed his brother up the stairs. They parted without another word; Sam heading to the library to research their new case, Dean leaving to check on Baby and make sure they had all the necessary supplies.

_It’s a standard salt and burn._ Sam told himself. _You’ve done a thousand of them, you’ll be fine. Now, you’ve just got the Devil in tow. No big deal, right?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter! Yay! Thank you all for your wonderful comments; they give me a reason to keep writing this story and I'm glad you all enjoy it!  
> Side note: I'm realizing, as I convert this chapter to AO3 format, that I use a lot of italics. I'm not against it, it just makes uploading these chapters a hassle sometimes.


	7. Trust in Degrees

“So, what’ve we got?” Dean asked, glancing briefly at his brother before returning his gaze to the road in front of him. Sam sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“Uh, well, it looks like a typical salt and burn. The victim, one Mr. Edward Small, was involved in a car accident a few weeks ago. The other car was driven by Amy Johnson, a high school senior. She died, Small lived, and it was ruled an accident.”

Dean snorted. “The girl didn’t get justice, so she comes back to axe her killer. Pretty standard procedure. What’s our cover?”

Sam shrugged. “FBI, since we’re escorting a prisoner. I don’t know why the fake Bureau would be interested in Amy’s death, but I don’t think anyone else would be escorting a prisoner across state lines.”

Dean scowled, glancing in the rearview mirror to check on Satan. Lucifer was cuffed and gagged in the backseat of the Impala, staring out the window at the trees racing by. “Are you sure we can’t just dump him off at a motel and break out the holy oil? It’d be a lot easier than hauling him around with us.”

Sam sighed. They’d been having this argument for the last hour and a half, and he was sick of it. “Dean, we’ve already been over this. If we leave Lucifer alone, then there’s a chance someone discovers him. Bringing him with us sucks, but it’s the best way to make sure that he doesn’t get up to anything Satanic, or get captured by angels.”

Dean’s scowl deepened, but he stayed silent. Sam glanced back at Lucifer. The archangel was watching their surroundings, but as Sam continued watching him, Lucifer’s gaze shifted, moving to stare back at the hunter. Sam swallowed hard as the silence stretched, Lucifer’s unblinking gaze never leaving him. The hunter broke first, turning to look out the window, his back resolutely to the archangel. Sam could feel Lucifer’s gaze on him, breathing a small sigh of relief when the archangel finally returned to staring at the trees, shifting an almost tangible weight from Sam’s shoulders.

“Okay, run me through it one more time. He died how, exactly?”

The sheriff sighed. He was in his mid-fifties, nearing retirement, overweight, and looked for all the world as though today was _not_ the day to explain a mysterious death to two FBI agents. 

“Mr. Small was in his home with the doors and windows locked, watching TV. As far as we can tell, no one entered the house, because we had to force the door in order to discover the body. The body was, well, everywhere. It was like he’d exploded or something. The ME’s stumped as to what could’ve caused it, and we don’t know how a killer could’ve gotten in.”

“On the news, it said that Mr. Small was strangled.” Sam interjected. The sheriff sighed, gesturing helplessly.   
“We couldn’t say that he exploded, or even that we had no idea how it happened.”

Sam frowned, exchanging a worried glance with Dean. Strangulation and a gypped victim pointed to a vengeful spirit, but spontaneous combustion? That was new.

“Look, it’s a small town, and people are bound to panic if something weird happens. A mysterious death is bad enough, but something like this? We wanted to keep it quiet.” The sheriff explained. Sam nodded understandingly. 

“If anything else comes up, give us a call.” Dean handed the sheriff his card, which the sheriff accepted gratefully. The hunters exited the building and got into the Impala, each contemplating the case.

“Have fun in there?”

Sam jerked, surprised, hitting his head on the ceiling on the car. Dean swore loudly, dropping the keys.

“How the hell did you get out of that gag?” Dean yelled, twisting around to glare at Satan. Lucifer was still in the backseat, but he’d changed his outfit. He was clad in a blue suit jacket, crisp white shirt, and a red tie, with the handcuffs and gag nowhere to be seen. Sam’s eyes widened, and his brain, without fucking permission, informed him that red looked good on blondes.

Lucifer cocked an eyebrow. “Seriously, Dean? I’m a celestial being, remember?” He lifted his hands, and the cuffs materialized over his wrists. “It’s just an illusion.”

Dean glared daggers at Satan, clearly irritated by the Devil’s nonchalance. “Well, cut it out, Satan, because we have work to do, and I don’t need to have a heart attack every time I look behind me. Why are you wearing a suit, anyway?”

Lucifer smirked, and Sam’s gaze flicked down to the archangel’s lips momentarily. _Dammit, Sam, get a hold of yourself_. He scolded himself. _It’s just a suit. Get over it._

“I thought I should offer my help with this case. It’s a tricky one, isn’t it?” Satan smiled innocently, and Dean turned so red that Sam thought he might burst a blood vessel.

“Why the hell would we let you help us?” Dean spat. Lucifer shrugged. 

“Desperate times, desperate measures.”

Sam inhaled sharply, Dean glancing at him suspiciously. Lucifer’s brow furrowed, and he scrutinized the tall hunter curiously.

“Sam, you don’t really think we should let Satan help on a hunt?” Dean asked in an accusatory tone. Sam swallowed hard, trying to shake the lingering fear that _Lucifer knows he knows he was there it was real it wasn’t a dream._

“Dean, this is a weird case. We came prepared for a salt and burn, not spontaneous combustion. I’m not saying we should set Lucifer free or anything, but-” 

“Unbelievable.” Dean interrupted, voice dripping with contempt. Sam’s face dropped, and he turned silently to face away from his brother. Dean made a noise of disgust, putting the car in gear and pressing the gas. 

“Look, Dean, it’s like the sheriff said. It’s a small town, and if people are gonna panic about a weird death, then they’ll sure as hell panic if the FBI are escorting a gagged prisoner through their town. I don’t like this any more than you do, but we need to consider our options. We let Lucifer keep up his illusion, in exchange for helping us with the case.”

Dean shook his head, slamming his hand against the steering wheel. “Dammit, Sam! We are _not_ letting Satan help us! Did you forget about the part where he’s the frigging Devil? Have you gone insane? Again?”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Come on, Dean! The last time we had a case like this, it was because Balthazar traded Moses’ staff for some kid’s soul! Did you forget about that part?”

“That guy melted, Sam! This is different!”

Sam started to reply, but was cut off by a loud groan from the backseat. 

“You humans are so _boring_.” Lucifer complained. “Are you like this all the time?”

Dean clenched his jaw tightly, refusing to reply. Sam rolled his eyes.

“Shut up, Lucifer.” Sam said.

“Honestly.” Lucifer sighed, ignoring Sam. “How does Cas stand it?”

A tense silence fell following the archangel’s words. Sam cast a glance back at Lucifer, and saw that the Devil’s gaze was locked on the back of Dean’s head. The shorter hunter’s eyes were firmly on the road, refusing to give Lucifer the satisfaction of getting under Dean’s skin.

“Maybe it’s because he likes you.” Lucifer mused quietly, and Sam decided that he should stop this now before Dean attempted to strangle the Devil.

“Alright, cut it out, Satan.”

“What’s the magic word, Sammy?” Lucifer teased. Sam glared at him in the rearview mirror, making Lucifer stick out his forked tongue in response. He sighed reluctantly.

“Please.”

Lucifer smiled sunnily, miming zipping his lips. Sam pulled a bitchface, and was saved from having to interact with the Devil any more by Dean pulling into the parking lot of a motel. 

“Alright, let’s get a room, then you can do research and I’ll go get food, okay?” Dean started to open the car door, but Sam grabbed his arm. Dean looked curiously at him, and Sam sighed.

“One room, or two?”

Dean’s forehead wrinkled in confusion, then understanding dawned on him. He looked back at Lucifer, then at Sam, eyes widening briefly.

“Well, you’ve always had a thing for monsters, haven’t you, Sammy?” Dean smirked, exiting the car amid Sam’s spluttered protests. “Look, I’ll ask if they have a room with two beds and a couch, but if they don’t, we’ll get two and figure it out. Okay?” Sam nodded reluctantly. He wasn’t enthusiastic about sleeping in the same room as Lucifer, but leaving the Devil alone was asking for trouble.

“A thing for monsters?” Lucifer asked innocently, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards slightly. Sam groaned, slumping against the back of his seat, wishing he could sink through the leather.

“Don’t ask.” He pleaded, letting out an exhausted sigh. Sam cast his gaze upwards, just high enough to see Lucifer in the rearview mirror. The Devil was smiling, relaxing against the leather of the Impala, wrinkling the fabric of his coat. Sam rolled his eyes, and reluctantly gave in.

“Ruby was...well, I’m sure you know who Ruby was. Before her, there was a werewolf we thought was cured, but it turned out that she wasn’t.”

Lucifer doubled over laughing, face brilliantly red. Sam let out a small huff of surprised laughter, if only for seeing such an ancient, powerful being writhing with amusement in the back of a car. Lucifer struggled to regain his breath, chest heaving. He took several deep breaths, eyes sparkling with amusement.

“Doggy style?”

Sam groaned, thumping his head on the dashboard in front of him. “Seriously?”

Lucifer grinned playfully, eyes gleaming. He made a careless sort of gesture with one hand, using the other to cushion his head as he reclined against the seat. “Sorry, Sammy. I couldn’t resist.”

Sam rolled his eyes, opening his mouth to respond, but was cut off by Dean opening the car door. The older hunter glared suspiciously at them, before tossing Sam a key.

“I got one room, two beds. There’s no couch, so I guess Satan will just have to make do with the floor.”

Sam sighed, getting out of the car and opening the door for Lucifer. The archangel gave Sam a simpering smile, batting his eyelashes adoringly. “My hero.”

Sam snorted, trying to repress his laughter. “Shut up, Lucifer.” He grabbed his bag out of the trunk, placing a hand on Lucifer’s arm, a firm enough grip to remind the archangel that he was still a prisoner. They made their way to their room, Lucifer shooting the receptionist a dazzling smile as they passed. 

“Quit flirting.” Dean snapped, his shoulders a hard line in front of them, clearly taut with anger. 

“I’m not _flirting_.” Lucifer replied, voice dripping with scorn. “I’m merely trying to assuage the receptionist’s suspicion as to why three men only need two beds. Did you not explain that to him?” Dean huffed angrily, nearly fumbling his key because his hands were trembling so badly. Sam sighed, pushing his brother aside so that he could unlock the door.

“Honestly, Dean, you didn’t think that might be suspicious? People think we’re a couple enough already without thinking we’re sharing a bed.”

“They didn’t think we were a couple.” Dean replied shortly, his tone oddly clipped. Sam frowned, forehead wrinkling in confusion. 

“Then who…?”

“Maybe the two people who were giggling like a couple of twelve year old girls at a sleepover?” Dean suggested snidely, his words sharp barbs that dug under Sam’s skin. 

The taller hunter let out a long, disgusted sigh. “Dean, you’re starting to sound like Zachariah. I’m not gonna sleep with the Devil.” Dean looked as though he’d very much like to reply, but thankfully, he was distracted by Lucifer, who had popped back into his usual clothes and was seated in front of the TV. The archangel looked odd, silhouetted in the flickering images and bright lights of the screen, his eyes seeming to age thousands of years in the span of a commercial break.

“Shut that thing off; I’m going to sleep.” Dean ordered, tossing his bag down on the rickety motel table. Lucifer didn’t move, but the TV dissolved into static, powering down with a high-pitched whine. Dean shot Lucifer one last suspicious look before pulling back the sheets on one of the beds and climbing in, settling down with his back firmly to the archangel. Sam rolled his eyes at his brother’s antics, stretching out on the other bed. He fit, but it was a tight enough fit that it made him long for his bed back at the bunker.

Hours later, Sam was staring at the ceiling, sleep stubbornly refusing to overtake his body. Dean was snoring on the other side of the room, and Lucifer was perched on a chair near the window, one side of his face bathed in weak moonlight. Sam’s eyebrows furrowed slightly, his dream from the previous night coming back to him.

“Is Nick still in there?”

Lucifer turned slowly, his eyes almost silver in the moonlight. He took a long moment before responding, and Sam was about to apologize for asking when the archangel finally replied. 

“No.”

Sam made a small noise of surprise. “Why not? I thought angels needed a person’s consent to wear them, and when Cas disappeared from Jimmy, he didn’t have any memory of being an angel. Can you...have a body?”

Lucifer lifted one shoulder in a noncommittal shrug. “I suspect he’s gone for the same reason you went insane after being in the Cage. Being exposed to two archangels warring with each other isn’t an easy experience, and he was the target of many of those attacks. If you were living in a nuclear testing site without any protection, then Nick was at the epicenter of every explosion. He took much more damage than you.”

“You didn’t try to shield him?” Sam asked, trying not to sound overly accusatory. He couldn’t exactly blame the Devil for not regarding a human life as something worth saving, but Nick, whoever he was, didn’t deserve to die from archangel deathmatch fallout. 

Lucifer’s eyes went dull, and he turned back to the window, gazing at the stars. “Why bother?” He asked, his tone flat and lifeless. “He was only human.”

Sam blinked, opening his mouth wordlessly. Part of him wanted to argue, to say that every life was worth trying to save, that Nick deserved better. But another, larger part of him knew it was useless. He wasn’t going to be able to convince the Devil that humanity was worth caring about, especially since Lucifer had once referred to humanity as “broken, flawed abortions.”

“Does it upset you that Nick’s gone?” Lucifer asked, head tilted quizzically.

“No.”

Lucifer raised an eyebrow, mouth curling upwards in surprise. “Really? I thought you’d give me a speech about the ethical ramifications of inhabiting an empty body or something.”

Sam laughed quietly, shaking his head. “I gave up on your moral compass a long time ago, Lucifer. Besides, with Nick gone and that body intact, you don’t need me for a vessel anymore, do you?” He couldn’t keep away the slight note of hope that crept into his voice, and Lucifer’s gaze shifted, making its way slowly up Sam’s body until it was locked on the hunter’s face. The archangel’s expression was inscrutable as he shook his head.

“No, Sam, I no longer need you for a vessel. Our bond still exists, but this body will be capable of sustaining and holding me.”

Sam let out a huff of relief. “Well, that’s a load off my shoulders.”

“You were worried about it?” Lucifer asked, clearly confused.

“Yeah, obviously. Satan shows up at your doorstep looking for you, you kinda assume he wants to wear your skin like a meat suit like Anthony Hopkins in _Silence of the Lambs_.”

Lucifer cocked his head to the side, brow furrowing slightly. “I don’t understand that reference.”

Sam laughed, putting a hand over his mouth to muffle the sound in order to not wake his brother. “You sound just like Cas.”

“Oh, god, I hope not.” Lucifer said, sounding downright revolted at the prospect. “A naive little soldier in love with Dean Winchester? Sounds horrible.”

Sam snorted. “What, you don’t love Dean? I’m shocked. You two get along so well.” He teased, voice dripping with sarcasm.

Lucifer shrugged. “What can I say? Dean’s not the Winchester I want.”

Sam huffed out a small laugh. “Thanks, Lucifer.” The archangel’s eyes gleamed, his bowed lips curving into a smile. 

“Anytime, Sammy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I can figure out how to properly link it, here is the suit Satan is wearing in this chapter (aka the reason I watched Quantico). http://www.ksitetv.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/11/141340_7299.jpg  
>  It's at this point that I realize that there's been very little Samifer in this fic, but I promise it's going to happen. I'm trying to make sure everything's healthy and consensual for the right reasons, which is taking a little more time to hammer out than I originally anticipated.


	8. Resentment and the Righteous Man

Lucifer looked down at the sleeping hunter, forehead slightly creased. Humans were such odd creatures. Sam had seemed relieved that Nick’s consciousness no longer inhabited his body, and didn’t attempt to make Lucifer feel bad for not shielding Nick. How thoroughly unlike him. Sam, in Lucifer’s experience, was irritatingly concerned with the well-being of others. He also had a fairly strong moral compass, a fact that Lucifer was sure Dean would argue wasn’t true.

At the thought of Dean, Lucifer’s jaw clenched. The Righteous Man resembled Michael in more ways than Dean understood, and his constant doubt of Sam only furthered their resemblance. The image of the perfect little soldier, following Dad’s orders without question, berating his younger, more rebellious brother was just the beginning of their resemblance. No, Dean and Michael were _made_ for each other, just as Sam as Lucifer were made for one another. Taking the wrong path for the right reasons, blinded by good intentions? _That_ was where Sam went wrong, not because his moral compass was weak or corrupted. What Dean and Michael did was no better.

“Family don’t end in blood.” Lucifer echoed quietly in the silence of the motel room. _Brave words for a boy who abandons his brother at every turn, Dean._ He laughed, a hollow, bitter sound. If Dean could only see the pain Sam felt, feel the burden Sam laboured under every day, then perhaps he’d stop causing Sam more agony. _Then again, seeing the Cage never stopped Michael._

Sam stirred, pulling Lucifer out of his reverie. The hunter was clearly having another nightmare, one of the many that plagued him daily. Lucifer sighed, turning back to the window. He could stop the nightmares, of course, but he’d need Sam’s consent, and the chances of the hunter giving Lucifer access to his mind were limited. Another twitch from Sam pulled him back, and Lucifer sighed, reluctantly getting up to stand next to where the hunter slept.

The handcuffs materialized, almost as a warning, and Lucifer made a face. He made a dismissive gesture, and they vanished again. Castiel did an excellent job with the warding, but he was still only a Seraph. Even with his reduced Grace, Lucifer was much more powerful than the other angell.

“Now, Sammy, don’t panic.” Lucifer whispered, gingerly placing a fingertip on the hunter’s forehead. Sam jerked, arching off the bed, and Lucifer winced. Dammit.  
“Come now, Sam, it’s only me. Don’t be afraid.”

The hunter’s head whipped to one side, the tendons in his neck painfully pronounced. Lucifer allowed a dribble of Grace to trail down his finger, the blue light tracing a path across the hunter’s forehead. Sam relaxed, sagging against the pillow, and Lucifer breathed a sigh of relief. His Grace crept in a slow stream down his arm, a cold but not uncomfortable sensation. Sam sighed, the tension slowly leaving his body. Lucifer allowed himself a small smile, stepping back to the window to leave the hunter to sleep in peace.

“Alright, Sleeping Beauty, get up.”

Sam groaned half-heartedly, burying his face deeper in his pillow. He’d had a nightmare at the beginning of the night, but after that...he’d slept peacefully. For the first time in a long time. 

“Come on, Sammy, we’ve gotta get down to the medical examiner’s office and look at what’s left of the victim.”

Sam grumbled resentfully, but peeled himself off the motel bed and got up. Lucifer was still perched by the window, in the same spot he’d been when Sam fell asleep.

“Did you sit there all night?” Sam asked, rubbing his stiff neck with a pleasantly bemused expression. Lucifer’s ice-blue eyes fixed upon him, and Sam shivered unconsciously, suddenly uncomfortable under the angel’s intense scrutiny.

“I escaped and tortured the souls of the innocent, but then I started to miss your lectures on my moral failings, so I came back. I knew you’d be ever so disappointed if I disappeared.” Lucifer replied, deadpan. Sam snorted, standing to put on his suit.

“Are we bringing Satan along?” Dean asked quietly, casting a glance over at the archangel, who was absorbed with the scenery outside the window. Sam shrugged, fixing his tie. 

“I think we’ve got to. He stayed the night, which was a stroke of luck, but that was probably shock from having to be human and travel in a car. Remember how Cas said it was confining? He’s probably adjusted by now, and letting him help...well, ideally, it’ll be like having Cas with us, except, you know, the Devil.”

Dean grunted, glaring resentfully at the Devil, but reluctantly agreed. Sam turned to Lucifer, and his jaw dropped. Lucifer had zapped himself into another suit, this time with a blue tie and an almost-white, pale blue shirt under a black jacket. _Shit._ It occurred to Sam that Lucifer looked good in a suit, which Sam promptly filed under “things to worry about later, possibly with alcohol present.”

“You’ve got a badge?” Sam asked, praying his voice didn’t sound as hoarse as he thought it did. Lucifer’s eyes gleamed, and he pulled out a badge that read “Special Agent Lucifer Morningstar.”  
Sam snorted. “You’re still gonna go by Lucifer? Some undercover agent you are.” Lucifer pouted, pocketing the badge.

“Oh, and rockstar aliases have never attracted any attention in the past?” He retorted. Sam made a “fair enough” face and noticed Dean staring at him.

“What? He’s right. Rockstar aliases aren’t exactly subtle.”

Dean opened his mouth, looking as though he were about to say something, but reconsidered. “Let’s just get going.” He said, his tone carefully even. Sam frowned. It wasn’t like Dean to back down from a fight, or miss an opportunity to get under Lucifer’s skin. 

“Everything okay, Dean?” He asked once they were all packed into the Impala and en route to the medical examiner’s office.

“Yeah, fine.” Dean replied, in the same carefully neutral tone. Sam sighed. “Dean, if there’s something wrong, if it’s something I did-”

Dean pulled the car over on the side of the road, the tires squealing in protest. Sam grabbed the door, bracing himself as they rolled over uneven ground. Dean slammed the transmission into park, not looking at his brother as he spat “Out.”

Sam got out, closing the door behind him, leaving Lucifer alone in the backseat. Dean dragged Sam a few paces away from the car, then stopped. Turning, he grabbed the lapels of Sam’s suit, using them to pull Sam down to his eye level.

“You think I don’t notice you looking at him? You honestly think I’m that stupid and unobservant? “Oh, Dean, is it something I did?” Damn right it’s something you did, or rather, something you want to do, and that thing is friggin’ Satan! You’re looking at him like he’s Pamela Anderson in a bikini, and you can’t do that! You said you wouldn’t fall off the wagon, you said you weren’t going to sleep with Satan, but lately I’ve had a really hard time of believing that!”

Sam pushed Dean away from him, taking a step back. After a long, tense moment, he turned back to his brother.

“Dean, you’re wrong. I’m not gonna fall off the wagon, and I’m not gonna sleep with Lucifer. Now will you stop being such a jerk and focus on the case? Please?”

Dean glared at him suspiciously, clearly unhappy with Sam’s explanation. “Look, Sam, I’m worried about you.”

“Yeah, well, you’ve got a funny way of showing it, Dean.” Sam shot back, allowing his anger to spill over into his voice. He normally didn’t try to antagonize his brother, preferring to play peacemaker when Dean was pissed at him, but he was fed up with Dean’s bullshit. Dean always claimed that he was worried about Sam, but somehow always managed to find an excuse to put him and Lucifer as close as possible. Sure, maybe Sam did think the archangel was kinda hot, but he wasn’t stupid. 

The older hunter sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “Sam, Cas thinks you’re going to say yes. He’s convinced of it, in fact, and I’m having an increasingly hard time defending you.”

“I don’t need to say yes anymore, Dean. He’s got a vessel.”

Dean froze, eyes narrowing suspiciously. “He told you that?” He asked slowly. Sam nodded. Dean snorted dismissively. “Yeah, of course he told you that, Sam. He’s trying to lower your guard so that you trust him, and then he’ll make you say yes, or sleep with him.”

Sam groaned, resisting the urge to grab and shake his brother. “Why are you so stuck on this whole sex thing? I mean, I know it rules your life, but it doesn’t rule mine, and I’m not stupid, Dean. Ruby was a mistake, but don’t you think I’ve learned from that mistake? I’m not an idiot, Dean!”

“Maybe if I knew what you two did in the Cage, I wouldn’t be so stuck on “this whole sex thing!”” Dean spat, face a blotchy red. “But as it stands, I don’t know what you got up to down there, so pardon me if I’m a little suspicious of where your priorities lie!”

“If you’ve quite finished harassing your brother, I believe you have a case to solve.” Lucifer’s voice came from behind the hunters, quiet and commanding. The archangel came into view, carrying himself with an arrogant authority, as though he expected the hunters to do as he said.

Dean swore viciously, grabbing the archangel as if to pin him against a tree. He let out a cry of pain, dropping to his knees, his hands blackened and frostbitten. Lucifer looked down at Dean coldly, ice-blue eyes burning with barely concealed rage.

“Touch me again and I won’t be as kind.” Lucifer said quietly, healing Dean’s hands with a snap of his fingers. Dean scrambled to his feet, face burning with anger and shame. Lucifer raised an eyebrow, silently challenging the older hunter to make a move. Dean held the Devil’s gaze for a moment, then dropped it with a disgusted hiss.

“Let’s just get to the damn ME’s office.” He snarled, stalking towards the Impala. Sam followed, treading lightly so as not to incur his brother’s wrath again. Lucifer had no such qualms, and practically skipped back to the Impala, seemingly oblivious to the argument they’d just had.

_We never slept together, Sam_.

Sam jerked in his seat slightly, then forced himself to still, not wanting Dean to notice anything amiss. He looked in the rearview mirror, and saw Lucifer looking at him, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards in amusement.

_I’d remember if we had._

Sam colored slightly, gaze flicking back to the road in front of them. So Lucifer was in his head, huh? That wasn’t exactly a new experience, but he didn’t have good memories of the first time it happened. Then again, it’d be nice to talk to the archangel without Dean breathing down his neck, and might help with researching the case.

_Ever the logical mind, Sammy._

_Get out of my head, Lucifer._ Sam thought back.

_Easy there, tiger. You don’t have to think so loudly. You look like you’re constipated. Just think, and I’ll be able to hear it._

Sam struggled to control his laughter, quickly turning it into a cough. Dean gave him a sidelong glance, but thankfully didn’t press him.

_How come I can’t hear what you’re thinking?_

_Because I’m a professional, and you’re new to this. Now, focus on your little Nancy Drew mystery, and pretend that I’m just another hunter helping you out._

Sam smiled in spite of himself, ignoring the small voice in the back of his head that told him that having Lucifer in his head, _again_ , might not be the best idea. In his defense, he wasn’t _okay_ with Lucifer being in his head. Hell, the idea of Lucifer having unfettered access to his thoughts terrified him, but that didn’t make this newfound method of communication any less convenient. And, as much as he hated to admit it, there were some things he wanted to discuss privately with Lucifer, without arousing Dean’s suspicion.

“So, what happened to him?” Sam asked the medical examiner. The elderly man shrugged, peering curiously what was left of Edward Small. 

“As ridiculous as it sounds, it appears that Mr. Small exploded, though I can’t for the life of me explain why.” The examiner answered, shrugging in a matter-of-fact way. “I wish I had more to tell you, Agents, but as far as forensic evidence goes, the body is a dead end, if you’ll pardon the pun.”

“What about environmental factors? Is there anything that could cause something like this to happen?” Sam asked, surveying the bloody remains of Mr. Small.

The examiner sighed, shaking his head slightly. “Spontaneous combustion is a tricky business, Agent Cohen. It’s either unexplainable, or there was something else that caused the explosion. I remember one case we had, in a hospital, where a man just went up in flames. Turns out, he’d lit a cigarette and forgotten about it, and it ignited his oxygen tube. If there’s anything that offers an explanation, you’ll be the first to hear about it.”

Sam nodded his thanks, then gestured at the body. “Do you mind if we stick around, see what we can find?”

The examiner waved a hand dismissively. “Sure thing; just remember to lock up the remains back in the cooler when you’re done with them.” The examiner left, closing the door behind him and leaving the hunters and the Devil alone in the room.

Sam looked expectantly at Lucifer, who was busy putting on a pair of latex gloves. 

“Well, what do you think?”

Lucifer twitched a shoulder upwards incrementally, brow furrowed as he prodded Mr. Small’s remains. 

“He’s definitely dead.” Lucifer said, flicking out a forked tongue to lick a chunk of meat. The hunters made noises of disgust, Dean moving to pull Lucifer away from the body. Lucifer turned his head slightly to the side, just enough to glare at Dean. The hunter backed down, seeming to remember Lucifer’s promise to not be as kind the next time Dean touched him.

“There’s no trace of sulfur on the body, which rules out demonic possession. I don’t taste an ash, so the cigarette theory is out the window.” Lucifer said patronizingly, as though he were explaining himself to several small children. 

“Alright, if you can’t figure out what happened, then we’ll head to the crime scene.” Dean replied, not bothering to keep the contempt out of his voice. Lucifer’s eyes narrowed, and the temperature in the room dropped about ten degrees. 

“Careful, Dean. It’d be a shame to explain to Cas that his favorite boy toy got too mouthy for his own good.”

“Can you two quit measuring dicks for five minutes and focus on the damn case?” Sam snapped, slamming his hands down on the metal examining table. Lucifer and Dean looked at him, their expressions a mix of anger and confusion. Sam sighed.

“Look, I’m sure you’re both very tough and manly, but you _really_ don’t need to prove that. Dean, quit trying to antagonize Satan. He’s the Devil, and I’d really prefer that he didn’t turn you into a squirrel because you’re pissing him off. Lucifer, stop threatening Dean. I don’t expect you to help us out of the goodness of your heart, but if people die because you’re holding out on us, I will dunk you in holy oil and light you on fire like an angelic shish kebab.”

A stunned silence fell after Sam’s words. Dean looked as though he couldn’t decide whether he wanted to punch Sam or start laughing, and Lucifer seemed quietly impressed. Of course, the Devil probably got death threats every day, so at least Sam seemed to get points for creativity in Lucifer’s mind.

“So, uh, now that that’s settled, let’s go check out the crime scene.” Sam said awkwardly, swallowing nervously. Lucifer was still looking at him, something like...approval? glinting in his ice-blue eyes. Okay. Solve case now, worry about Satanic approval later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm just gonna put it out there that Lucifer's feelings are his own, and we accept them, but they don't always mirror mine, and they don't have to be taken at face value. I say that because I've kinda written Dean as a dick (mostly unintentionally), and I don't want you guys to think that I hate Dean. I don't, but this fic and Lucifer seem to hate him. Ah, the perils of not knowing what the hell you're doing.
> 
> Also, if my notes here are unintelligible, it's because I tend to update this fic around midnight. I apologize for my sleep-deprived ramblings. The updates, however, are written during reasonable hours of the day. I hope you enjoy them.
> 
> Lucifer's new suit: https://www.popoptiq.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/11/Mark-Pellegrino.jpg


	9. An Intense Kind of Guy

“Well, as crime scenes go, it could be worse.” Sam commented, ducking under the police tape. Dean followed, looking around the room critically.

“No signs of forced entry, doors locked?” He asked. Sam nodded, turning the door handle experimentally. The police had said that the doors were locked from the inside, so there was no way the lock could have been picked and then re-locked. 

“Ghosts don’t usually blow up their victims, do they?” Lucifer asked, absentmindedly picking up the photos on the mantle. 

“Put those down.” Dean snapped, snatching the frames from the archangel’s grasp. Lucifer stuck out his tongue once Dean’s back had turned, and went back to peering curiously at the pictures.

“Uh, no, ghosts usually don’t make their victims explode, but it’s possible. We’ve had vengeful spirits strangle people with power cords or start fires, so I guess ghosts blowing people up isn’t too far-fetched.” Sam said. The Devil nodded, tracing a finger along the edge of a frame. “Luci, not to pry, but why are you so interested in those pictures?”

“Was the victim married?” Lucifer asked.

“No, I don’t think so. Why?” Dean answered, clearly impatient with the Devil.

“Because there’s a lot of pictures of him with a woman.” Lucifer replied, holding up one of the photos for proof. Sam walked over, taking the photo to examine for himself. Sure enough, there was Mr. Small, arm in arm with a middle-aged brunette woman.

“Huh.” Sam said, giving the picture back to Lucifer. “Good work, Luci.” He flashed Satan a quick smile, before turning to Dean.

“Any idea who the woman is? Girlfriend, sister, anyone mentioned in the report?”

Dean shook his head, giving the picture a quick once-over. “Alright, you and Satan track down this woman and interrogate her, and I’ll finish up here at the crime scene. After you finish, get back to the motel and figure out where that Amy girl Small killed is buried.”

Sam nodded, resisting the urge to say “Yes, sir” after Dean rattled off his orders. As satisfying as it might be to sass his brother, he was already treading a thin line with Dean’s patience, and pushing it wouldn’t be the best idea.

Lucifer, of course, had no such qualms, and saluted Dean when the older hunter wasn’t looking. Sam rolled his eyes, grabbing Lucifer’s arm and dragging him out of the house.

“Can you stop pressing Dean’s buttons for five minutes?” He asked, glaring at the Devil. Lucifer shrugged, seemingly unperturbed by Sam’s anger.

“I could.” Lucifer said. “But I don’t like the way he treats you, so I won’t.”

“This is why you started the Apocalypse.” Sam grumbled under his breath. 

One minute Sam was heading towards the local officers, about to ask them about the woman in the photo; the next, he was pressed against the side of a police cruiser, Lucifer’s face inches from his own.

Sam sucked in a surprised breath, eyes wide. Lucifer trailed a hand down Sam’s chest, winding the hunter’s tie around his hand.

“You listen to me, _boy._ ” Hissed the archangel. “Did it ever occur to you, in that tiny, simplistic mind of yours, that Fate was right? You may never have to say yes, but you were _made_ for me, Sam, and you can’t change that. Dean was made for Michael, and sometimes he acts so much like Michael that I wonder if he did really say yes.”

Sam tried to push Lucifer off of him, but the archangel was like a stone statue pressing against him. He squirmed stubbornly against Lucifer’s grip, but the Devil only bore down on him harder. 

“Why try to stop me, Sam? We’re bound to each other. Why do you think you survived the Cage? Braver, stronger men than you have failed. Dean couldn’t stand Hell. He gave in. He tortured souls. How could he be the Michael sword after that, Sam? Hmm? Dean is _flawed_. He represents every sin and repulsion of humanity. Lust, gluttony, sloth, envy, pride, anger, greed, he’s got them all in droves. Shall I go down the list and give you examples? For the Righteous Man, he does seem to indulge in a lot of sin. Maybe that’s why the Mark affected him so much. It just showed everyone the monster he truly is when you scrape away that righteous, infallible exterior.”

“Is this about Michael or Dean, Lucifer?” Sam hissed, trying to ignore the sinking feeling that _maybe Lucifer’s right_. Lucifer’s eyes narrowed, and thought his face was only inches from Sam’s, the hunter couldn’t feel any breath on his face when the archangel spoke.

“As difficult as the concept may be for you to grasp, the only difference between Dean and Michael is that Dean can die. Why do you think Castiel has had such a difficult time trusting you now that I’m back? He can’t tell us apart. One of us is the Serpent, the Morningstar, the angel who broke all of Daddy’s favorite toys, and the other is...well, you’re just a vessel to Castiel. As far as the angels are concerned, it’s only a matter of time before you say yes. Why do you think Castiel likes Dean so much? He’s sucking up to his older brother, who’s Daddy’s favorite.”

“You spend a lot of time writing that speech in the Cage?” Sam asked, turning up his chin defiantly. “Because there’s a hell of a lot more differences between Dean and Michael, Lucifer. Maybe if you gave him a chance instead of acting like a child around him, you’d see that.”

Lucifer’s face contorted with rage, then went completely blank, falling into a neutral mask. Sam would’ve preferred the anger, because the expressionless mask reminded him of how Lucifer was when he was trying to start the Apocalypse. 

The Devil smiled, a small, controlled expression that gave nothing away, but sent chills down Sam’s spine.

“Yes, I did. I had plenty of time in the Cage, to do things you couldn’t dream of. Would you like me to demonstrate?” Lucifer asked softly, his voice dangerously quiet. Sam swallowed hard. Something in Lucifer’s voice brought back memories of the Cage, and Sam wanted nothing to do with those memories.

“No, Lucifer.” He croaked. Lucifer’s smile widened, exposing the tips of his incisors, but didn’t reach his eyes. They stayed cold and hard, two tiny circles of ice boring into Sam’s hazel ones. 

“Good.” Lucifer purred, slowly drawing back from Sam. The hunter let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, and tried to calm his pounding heart. There were times where he forgot that Lucifer was the Devil, an ancient, powerful archangel who could crush Sam like a bug if he wanted to. Being reminded of that fact wasn’t a pleasant experience.

“Shall we find out who our mystery woman is?” Lucifer asked, affecting a tone of false cheeriness. Sam would’ve preferred the quiet menace, but he nodded nonetheless, walking over to a local cop. Lucifer hung back by the Impala, his gaze boring into Sam’s back as the hunter stopped the officer and showed him the picture.

“Yeah, I know her. Name’s Monica Jackson. She lives a few houses over, in that peach-colored one.”

“Was she involved with anyone?” Sam asked. The officer shrugged, shaking his head slightly. 

“Wish I knew for sure, but I think she’s single. She’s not married, at least. I don’t see her around much, what with the job and all, but my wife’s had her over for tea a few times. She works at the library, if you’re looking to find her.” The officer said, flashing Sam an apologetic smile. “Sorry I can’t help you boys more.”

Sam waved off his apology, grinning easily. “Believe me, you’ve been very helpful.”

The officer nodded, then cast a quick glance over at Lucifer, who was lounging against the Impala, eyes fixed on Sam.

“Hey, listen, I know it’s not my business to ask, but is your partner there alright?” The officer asked in a low voice.

Sam blinked, surprised. “Uh, yeah, he’s...fine. Why do you ask?”

The officer ducked his head apologetically, nervously scuffing the sidewalk with his shoe. “Well, I couldn’t help but notice you two were having an argument. It seemed pretty...heated.”

Sam laughed incredulously, more out of disbelief than amusement. “Oh, yeah, we, uh, had a difference of opinion. It’s nothing to worry about; happens all the time.” He smiled reassuringly, hoping his explanation would satisfy the officer. He didn’t trust himself to answer questions about Lucifer without drawing too much attention to the archangel.

The officer chewed his lip, raising an eyebrow suspiciously. “He seems like an intense kind of guy.” He commented, his tone questioning. Sam sighed, running a hand through his hair. How was he supposed to respond to that? “Well, you know, he’s the Devil, so he’s a bit high-strung?” 

“He is.” Sam said shortly, turning away from the officer. “Thank you, you’ve been very helpful.” He continued, cutting off the officer’s stuttered reply. Sam strode away quickly, leaving the officer slightly bewildered behind him.

“Her name’s Monica Jackson, and she lives a few houses over.” Sam called once he was within earshot of the archangel. Lucifer nodded, falling in step with Sam as they walked towards Monica’s house.

“I’m an intense kind of guy?” Lucifer asked quietly, looking at Sam curiously. Sam groaned. 

“You heard that whole conversation, didn’t you?”

Lucifer smirked, nudging Sam playfully. “Angel powers, remember?”

Sam rolled his eyes, grinning ruefully. The grin faded as he thought about the reality of the situation. He was laughing and joking with Satan, the Devil, the thing that had driven him insane. Satan could hear his damn _thoughts_ and Sam was smiling? He should be finding ways to kill the archangel; hell, Satan had just pinned him against a damn car and Sam was laughing along with him now. What was wrong with him?

“Penny for your thoughts, Sammy.” Lucifer’s soft voice pulled Sam out of his reverie.

“Sorry, got distracted.” Sam smiled reflexively. “What were we talking about?”

Lucifer’s eyes were stormy as he looked at the hunter, his expression inscrutable. “I’m an intense kind of guy.” He prompted. Sam nodded, running a hand through his hair distractedly.

“Well, yeah, you’re the Devil. You can be pretty intense at times.” Sam said, shrugging. Lucifer’s eyes didn’t leave him, and Sam found himself talking reflexively, to fill the silence, and to give himself something to distract himself from Lucifer.

“I mean, I don’t blame you for being intense. You’re an angel, like, an actual angel, and you were trapped in a cage for thousands of years. I’d be angry too, if it were me. There’s nothing wrong with being intense, either, so don’t think it’s an insult. You’ve got a really overwhelming presence, like everything else loses its color and you’re the brightest thing in the room. It’s a little unnerving, which I guess is where the intense part comes from. Or maybe that you’re, you know, the Devil.” Sam finished lamely, hating the blush that had steadily reddened his cheeks as he spoke.

Lucifer swallowed down a smile, fighting to keep his face neutral. “Do people usually talk this much, or is it a nervous reaction?” He asked, struggling to keep his tone casual. 

Sam groaned, shaking his head. “Shut up, Lucifer.”

“Do I make you nervous?” Lucifer asked, his voice taking on a lower, languid quality. Sam rolled his eyes, fighting the urge to laugh. He turned, opening his mouth to tell Lucifer to be quiet, but the words died on his lips. The archangel was only a few inches away from him, close enough that Sam could see every detail of Lucifer’s face with startling clarity. Sam’s breath caught, his jaw hanging open, frozen with the archangel so close to him.

“Hmm.” Lucifer mused, gaze shamelessly tracking down the hunter’s body. Sam swallowed hard, throat suddenly dry, feeling unnaturally exposed under the archangel’s gaze. “Now you’re not talking at all. Is that a nervous reaction too?” The archangel’s voice was low, quiet, without any hint of teasing. Sam started to reply, but Lucifer cut him off. “I’d say I make you nervous, Sammy.”

Sam scowled, stepping away from Lucifer. 

“Let’s just interrogate Ms. Jackson, okay?”

Lucifer grinned, a dark, predatory expression, and gestured for Sam to lead the way. Sam knocked on the door, and it was opened almost immediately by a middle-aged woman. Her eyes were slightly red, as though she’d been crying, but she brightened almost immediately as she took in the agents at her door. Sam groaned inwardly. Great. Another cougar. He entertained himself with the brief, delicious fantasy that she would try to hit on Lucifer, before following her inside.

“Ms. Jackson, I understand this is a difficult time for you, but we have some questions we’d like to ask you.” Sam said, smiling sympathetically. Ms. Jackson dabbed at her eyes with a tissue, taking a moment to compose herself.

“I’d be happy to answer questions you have, agent.” 

Sam nodded, opening a notepad. “How close were you and Mr. Small?”

“We were a little more than friends, if you get my meaning, Agent.” Ms. Jackson answered, looking over Sam flirtatiously. 

Sam flashed her a tight smile, quickly returning to his line of questioning. “Was there anyone who disliked him, or would want to hurt him in some way?”

Ms. Jackson looked slightly put-out that Sam had ignored her advances, but answered his question anyway. “Well, Edward wasn’t exactly well-liked. Ever since that accident he had, the one that killed that poor girl, folks haven’t been very nice to him. I don’t think there’s many people that will grieve for him, as sad as that is.”

“He killed someone. Why should we grieve?” Lucifer interjected, his eyes hard. Ms. Jackson looked up, startled, as though she’d forgotten that Lucifer was there.

“He made a mistake, Agent.” She replied, clearly offended. “God tells us to forgive, and I forgave him. Are you a man of God, Agent?”

Sam quickly turned his laughter into a cough, nearly choking in his effort to stifle his amusement. Lucifer shot him a nasty look, while Ms. Jackson peered at Sam, shooting confused glances between the two agents.

“Sorry, ma’am.” Sam apologized, clearing his throat. “Now, um, as I was saying, can you think of anyone who might have wanted to kill him?”

“Kill him?” Ms. Jackson cried, putting a hand over her mouth. “Why, Agent, I know what the police report said, but surely there must be another explanation for Edward’s death?”

“Routine question, ma’am. We have to investigate every possibility.” Sam shrugged, smiling apologetically.

“Edward wasn’t well-liked, Agent, but I can’t imagine that anyone would want to _kill_ him. It’s a small town, Agent. We don’t have murderers.” She said, her tone almost pleading. “I can’t imagine someone killing poor Edward. He was harmless.”

“He wasn’t harmless to Amy Johnson.” Lucifer said quietly, stepping forward so that Ms. Jackson’s attention would be trained on him. “Mr. Small was strangled, Ms. Jackson. Now, you may have been sleeping with him, but that doesn’t excuse his past behavior. He killed someone’s little girl, and he got off scot-free. Don’t you think there might be some people that resent that? Maybe enough to want revenge?”

Ms. Jackson swallowed hard, hugging herself as though she was cold. “Marcus Williams, Amy’s boyfriend. He threatened Edward, sent him all sorts of nasty mail, especially after the trial. He’s the only person I can think of that would want to...kill...Edward.” She spoke as though each word cost her something to say, and seemed to wilt when she was finished speaking. Sam awkwardly patted her arm, standing up to leave.

“Thank you, Ms. Jackson. You’ve been very helpful.” Sam said quietly, following Lucifer out of the house. 

“Well, that was fun.” Lucifer said, his words dripping with sarcasm. “Are they always so oblivious?”

Sam glared at the archangel, resisting the urge to smack him. “Lucifer, her friend died. She’s upset. Give her a break.”

“She defended the actions of a man who killed a teenage girl and received no punishment for his crime. Why, exactly, should I give her a break?” Lucifer asked, sounding more curious than angry.

Sam sighed. “Look, I’m not saying she’s a good person, I’m just saying that she’s grieving.”

“Does thinking about sex help people grieve?” Lucifer asked innocently. Sam nearly tripped over himself in his shock, turning to look at the archangel, mouth opening to ask what Lucifer meant, but Lucifer answered his question before Sam could ask it.

“You were right to call her a cougar, Sam. She was imagining you fucking her over the coffee table, or perhaps bending her over the kitchen table. There were other things she imagined, but those two fantasies seemed to be the most prominent.” Lucifer frowned, tilting his head as though he was working out a particularly challenging puzzle. “Odd. I thought fantasizing about someone was considered a compliment, but you don’t seemed pleased by it.”

Sam groaned, running a hand through his hair. Shouldn’t _Satan_ , of all people, understand lust? He was the Lord of All Things Sinful and Tempting; you’d think he’d know how sexual fantasies worked. 

“When someone’s fantasizing about it, it’s only really a compliment when you want them back.” Sam explained, feeling his cheeks heat up. “It’s not an insult if you don’t return their feelings, but it does make the situation...awkward.”

Lucifer nodded seriously, his eyes taking on a devious gleam. “So, if Dean were fantasizing about Castiel, it would be a compliment?” He asked, smirking.

Sam rolled his eyes, grinning. “Yeah, Luci, it’d be a good thing. But you’ll never get Dean to admit that he fantasizes about Cas, so it’s a mixed blessing.”

Lucifer’s smile widened, taking on an almost wolfish quality. “Ah, so, sexual fantasies are a sign of frustration, and Dean is frustrated?”

“You could say that.” Sam returned, grinning ruefully as he thought of how Dean would react if he knew this conversation was happening. He’d pitch a fit, but at this point, Sam was used to his brother’s inability to cope with his badly concealed bisexuality. “Honestly, at this point, if someone offered to lock those two in a room and wouldn’t let them leave until they admitted their feelings for each other, I’d probably marry them on the spot.”

“That could be arranged.” Lucifer replied smoothly. Sam laughed, then stopped when he realized Lucifer was serious.

“Wait, you could do that?” He asked incredulously. Lucifer nodded, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards in amusement as Sam stared at him in wonderment. “Once this is over, I’ll pay you to lock them in Dean’s room in the bunker.”

Lucifer’s smile widened, and he looked at Sam with something close to fondness. “Pranking our brothers? I’ll do that for free, Sammy.” He laughed quietly as the hunter punched the air, nearly skipping down the sidewalk in his excitement. Sam reminded him of Gabriel, in a way. Both were full of energy, had a childish passion for life, and possessed an overwhelmingly optimistic outlook on life. Both fled a dysfunctional family, only to be pulled back in. Guilt clawed at Lucifer’s insides, a cloying sensation that stopped his laughter and turned his expression mournful. 

_Gabriel always did love pranks. He’d have helped Sam in an instant, probably would’ve created another foolish game show that didn’t end until Dean and Castiel fell in love._ Lucifer’s mouth twisted into a bitter smile. _Sam would’ve liked Gabriel, once he got to know him. Maybe he’d be just like Castiel, tagging along with them to all of their hunts and playing the occasional prank._

Lucifer shook himself. Regret wasn’t really his style, even though he did mourn for Gabriel. Still, there was something in the way that Sam thoughtlessly included Lucifer in his future, as though it were a foregone conclusion that Lucifer would be coming back to the bunker with them, that made the archangel’s chest ache. It was easy to distance himself from the Winchesters and his family, because none of them ever tried to include him. He was an outcast, and for good reason. They never offered redemption, and Lucifer didn’t seek it. It was a painful arrangement, at times, but it was for the best.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this chapter is quite a bit longer than normal, but the end scene didn't fit with the next chapter, so here it is. I included Gabriel because I think Lucifer definitely mourns for him, even if he doesn't outwardly show it. Plus, Lucifer in this story has mostly been a sassy jerk, and I wanted to give him some depth. Further proof that I have no idea what the hell I'm doing.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this! I really enjoy writing this fic, even if it does occasionally drive me nuts, and I always love seeing that other people enjoy my writing. Have a happy devil to start your week! ψ(｀∇´)ψ


	10. A Monster

Sam lay on the motel bed, staring at the ceiling. The light from the moon and the headlights of passing cars cast dancing shadows along the wall, and Sam found his thoughts wandering to Lucifer. The archangel had been quiet, distant, even, ever since they’d left Ms. Jackson’s house. He’d been cordial to Dean, barring a few waspish comments, but other than that, the evening had been uneventful.

_Maybe he’s planning something._ Sam’s paranoid side whispered. 

_Shut up._ Sam told his paranoid side, punching his pillow into a more comfortable position. He rolled onto his side so that he was facing the window, inadvertently catching a glimpse of Lucifer.

The archangel was half-hidden in the shadows, his blue eyes two bright spots in the darkness. Something in his expression aged him thousands of years, his eyes weary and full of pain as they gazed dully out the window, watching cars pass without absorbing anything. He didn’t so much as blink when Sam pulled up a chair next to him and sat down.

“You okay?” Sam asked quietly, heart thumping nervously.

Blue eyes turned to face him, staring emptily into the hunter’s hazel ones. Sam felt like he was drowning in Lucifer’s eyes, the sadness pulling him down until he broke, looking away from the archangel.

“What do you remember of the Cage?” Lucifer asked, his voice barely above a whisper. Sam swallowed, fear seizing up his throat. 

“Not much.” He croaked, struggling to wet his tongue. It felt like it was coated with sand, too large for his mouth, and being so close to the archangel only made it drier. 

“Liar.” Lucifer said absentmindedly, his gaze returning to the window.

Sam started, surprised. “What do you mean?”

Lucifer smiled, but there was no warmth in the expression. “You remember plenty about the Cage, Sam. You’re just afraid that you won’t know what was real and what was a trick of your mind, so you’re burying it all because otherwise it’ll drive you insane. Again.”

Sam opened his mouth reflexively, but no words came out. How was he supposed to argue with that? He closed his mouth, taking a moment to collect his thoughts. The silence between them stretched, time slowing, the seconds passing like fat drips of molasses. 

“I dream about it sometimes.” Sam finally spoke, voice barely above a whisper. “The nightmares, they’re usually about the Cage.”

“What happens in the dreams?” Lucifer asked, his voice soft. Sam took a shaky breath, fear prickling at the base of his neck. 

“We talk.” He said, a shudder running through him, the room suddenly cold. “We talk, and you try to convince me that we’re made for each other.”

Lucifer shrugged noncommittally, still staring resolutely out the window. “Well, to be fair, I do spend a lot of time trying to convince you of that, so your subconscious isn’t that far off. Though…” The archangel trailed off, seemingly lost in thought. After a moment, he shook himself, and continued speaking. “Are we alone?”

Sam’s brow furrowed, looking at the Devil curiously. “Yeah, why?”

“Where’s Michael?”

Sam rocked back slightly, thinking hard. He’d never encountered Michael in the Cage, and now that he thought about it, he’d never dreamed about the archangel either. 

“I don’t know.” He answered truthfully. “Maybe my subconscious decided that he’s a dick and I don’t need to dream about him.”

Lucifer laughed, and the sound of it shocked Sam. It was so different from the mocking, triumphant laugh that Sam’s hallucination always seemed to have; it sounded _genuine_ , amused, and it’d been years since Sam heard anything that sounded that happy. He found himself smiling affectionately, watching how Lucifer’s face transformed with delight. The archangel’s laughter faded, but his eyes stayed bright with amusement.

“So, Michael’s enough of a dick to be forgotten, but I managed to stay in your subconscious’ good graces?” Lucifer asked, his tone slightly teasing.

Sam rolled his eyes, playfully thwacking Lucifer’s arm. “Shut up, Satan. I’m sure you could get out of my good graces pretty easily, too.” His grin faded slightly as he considered Lucifer’s question. Why had Satan been in his dreams? Fear, obviously. He was terrified of the Devil. _But not terrified of Michael_? 

“Maybe it’s for the same reason that we can have our little silent conversations.” Lucifer prompted, watching the hunter carefully. 

“If then next thing you say is “we’re connected”, I’m going to stab you.” Sam replied, deadpan. Lucifer chuckled, absentmindedly lifting a hand to examine it in the moonlight. Sam watched as the archangel curled his fingers into a fist, then unfurled them one by one, seemingly fascinated by the movement. They stayed like that for a moment, Lucifer silently examining his hands, Sam watching, absorbed in the archangel’s examination of his body.

“What’s it like, to not need a vessel?” Sam asked, breaking the silence. Lucifer’s hand dropped, and he turned to look at Sam, eyes piercingly bright in the darkness of the motel room.

“Somehow, equal parts confining and freeing.” The archangel replied, something in his voice strangely distant. “I can feel things now. Clothing, the smooth texture of lacquered wood, the cool drywall beneath grainy paint on these walls. Sensation is so _intense_ , now, but I’m confined to the limits of this body. I’ll burn if I touch a hot stove, though I can heal the wound. It’s so _complex_ , what you humans live with every day, and yet you don’t understand any of it.”

Sam inclined his head slightly, considering Lucifer’s words. “So, other than the obligatory comment about how worthless we humans are, what sensations do you want to experience?” 

Lucifer raised an eyebrow. “That’s an odd question, Sam.” He replied evenly.

Sam grimaced slightly. “I mean, I experience pain. It’s part of my everyday life. There’s emotional pain, like seeing someone you care about get hurt, and there’s physical pain, like being thrown into a wall. Can you care about someone? Can you feel pain?” He thought about it for a moment, then added; “Do you want to?”

Lucifer stared at Sam, his expression inscrutable. “I do have feelings, Sam, if that’s what you’re asking.” He replied, his tone mild. “As to whether or not I feel pain, yes, I do. Maybe it’s not on the same level as you or your brother, but I do feel pain, as does Castiel. Why would I be different?”

Sam shrugged awkwardly, uncomfortable under the archangel’s intense gaze. “I don’t know, I just assumed that you had to be different.”

“Why?” Lucifer asked, sounding genuinely confused. 

Sam gnawed his lip nervously. “Because you’re the Devil.” He answered hesitantly. “If you can condemn an entire planet to death, and still sleep at night, then you must be…” Sam trailed off, not wanting to finish his sentence. Lucifer seemed to understand where the hunter was going, though, as he let out a bitter sort of laugh.

“Then I must be a monster.” Lucifer finished, nodding slowly. “I see.”

“I don’t want you to be a monster.” Sam blurted out. As soon as the words left his mouth, he felt his face heat up, Lucifer turning to scrutinize him more closely. Sam buried his face in his hands, his voice muffled as he spoke. 

“I know it’s stupid, I know you’re the Devil and this is how you manipulate people, but I don’t _want_ you to be bad. I hated you for years, I hated you for everything you’ve done; hell, you created _demons_! I should hate you! But I just...can’t.” He sighed. “Not when you’re sitting next to me in a shitty motel room, looking like a depressed middle-aged man.”

Lucifer stayed silent, watching Sam as the hunter wrestled with himself. Finally, Sam sat up again, sighing. 

“Look, Luci, I understand _why_ you would do what you did. I get that you resent Michael, and yeah, I can understand resenting an older brother and a father. But I can’t understand _how_ you could actually condemn a planet to death, and then follow through on the threat. I don’t see how you could expect me to say yes, when I know that it’ll mean the Apocalypse.”

Lucifer shrugged noncommittally. “I’ll never lie to you, Sam, and I won’t start now. I assumed you’d say yes because you’d resent your older brother and father as much as I did. I assumed you’d sympathize with me and understand the desire for revenge.” He paused, then added; “Nick did.”

Sam blinked, surprised. “Nick said yes? Why?”

Lucifer rolled his eyes, looking slightly offended. “Honestly, Sam, do you even have to ask that question? Of course he said yes. I can’t inhabit a body without consent, and, unlike Michael and Zachariah, I didn’t have to give anyone stomach cancer to convince them.”

Sam winced, his stomach twinging at the memory of the cancer tearing apart his insides. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry. How did you convince him?”

“His wife and child were killed. I told him that I couldn’t bring them back, but I could offer him revenge. He said yes.” Lucifer answered simply.

Sam let out a low whistle. “Damn.” He and Dean had barely thought of Lucifer’s vessel as more than “that poor bastard being possessed by Satan”. They’d never really considered that Lucifer could’ve convinced someone to be his vessel without resorting to violence or threats like Zachariah had. Sam laughed. Funny how the Devil had more respect for people than the proclaimed Savior of humanity.

The hunter glanced over at Lucifer, whose lips had curved upwards in a small smile. Sam found himself staring at the archangel’s lips, studying the wide bow-curve, wondering what it’d be like to press his against them…

_Whoa there, Sammy._ He mentally slapped himself. Sure, Lucifer looked good in a suit, but he was still the Devil, and attractive or not, Sam was not going down that road again. He’d learned his lesson. Hot, evil things were still evil, and sleeping with them never ended well.

“Penny for your thoughts, Sammy?” Lucifer asked in that damn low, smooth voice of his.

“It’s nothing.” Sam said, swallowing hard and ducking his head. Lucifer grabbed Sam’s face, titling the hunter’s chin up so that he was staring up at the Devil.

“You forget, I can see everything that goes inside that little head of yours, Sammy.” Lucifer chastised, tutting disapprovingly. “Now, I never lie to you, and I’d love for you to return that favor. What do you say, hmm?”

Sam swallowed hard, his train of thought stuck between _oh god yes_ and _oh god no_ and heading towards derailing at a dangerous speed. He shook himself, forcing himself to focus on a spot behind Lucifer’s head, because if he got another glance at the dangerous look in the archangel’s eyes, there was no telling what he’d do.

“I don’t want to offend you.” Sam managed, clenching his jaw. “After all, I’m a filthy human.”

Lucifer’s lips twitched in a way that most certainly was _not_ intriguing. “I thought we agreed that fantasies were only offensive when your feelings weren’t reciprocated, Sam.”

Fuck.

Sam gaped at the archangel, stuck between shock and embarrassment. “You’ve heard everything I’ve been thinking, haven’t you?” He accused, covering his shame with anger. Lucifer shrugged, cocking an eyebrow in an evident gesture of “ _so_?”

The hunter sagged back against his chair, taking a moment to absorb the situation. He thought Lucifer was hot; okay, fine, understandable. Lucifer…

Lucifer’s lips quirked into a sultry smirk, his eyes dark. “For the smart one in the group, you’re a bit slow, aren’t you?”

Oh, that was _it_.

Sam tipped his chin upwards, meeting Lucifer’s eyes defiantly. “So, tell me, Luci, what am I supposed to be doing?”

“Oh, there’s many things we could be doing, Sam.” Lucifer replied genially. “For example, we could talk about the Cage, discuss our mutual Daddy issues and domineering older brothers, or talk about your Nancy Drew ghost mystery, just to name a few things.”

Sam glared at Lucifer, snorting derisively to disguise his panic. Okay, Lucifer was definitely messing with him. Plan B, Abandon Ship, Shove Feelings Back into the Repression Bin.

“Let’s not talk about family, okay?” He said, stretching to try to relieve some of the tension in his shoulders. Lucifer shrugged, staring at Sam expectantly. The hunter swallowed hard, his gaze flicking back to the archangel’s mouth momentarily. He shook himself. _Come on, Sam. You’ve been down that road before. Sleeping with the Devil won’t end well._

“Should we talk about which sensations I’d like to experience?” Lucifer asked, clearly teasing Sam. The hunter groaned, flushing harder, wishing he could sink through the floorboards and escape the embarrassment of being teased by the Devil.

“No.” Sam grumbled. “Shut up.” 

Lucifer mimed zipping his lips and pocketing the key, and obediently sat silently, staring at Sam. The hunter let the silence stretch, taking time to calm his pounding heart and forcing himself to think through the situation. Lucifer was teasing him, that’s all. _Pull yourself together._ He scolded himself. _You do not want Lucifer and Lucifer does not want you._

Sam found himself talking in a low voice, telling Lucifer about the hunts they’d gone on and the funny stories from the road, like the time Dean locked the keys in the Impala and nearly cried, or when Sam told a waitress Dean had been hitting on that Dean had a boyfriend named “Jimmy”, who had “the bluest eyes you’ve ever seen”. Dean hadn’t been pleased, and had spent the next hour fuming. He’d gotten revenge, though, by telling the cute girl at the next rest stop that everyone who slept with Sam had died. Sam had been more upset than he cared to admit.

Gradually, the tension in the room dissipated, and the Devil let out a quiet laugh a few times. Sam talked about Cas and Dean, how Cas still didn’t understand personal space when he was near Dean but oddly enough, never seemed to have that issue with Sam. Dean had given up reprimanding the angel for standing too close, and Sam was half tempted to trap them in a ring of holy fire while they were busy gazing into each other’s eyes. 

“But, see, that’s why I need you to help me trap them.” Sam continued imploringly. “If I have to deal with any more of their pining, I’m going to go insane. It’s gone on too long, and I’m sick of Dean’s refusal to have a sexual crisis.”

Lucifer rolled his eyes, grinning fondly. Castiel had always been naive, even for an angel, but this was a new level of cluelessness. “Does Castiel know how Dean feels about him?”

Sam threw up his hands in exasperation. “I don’t even think _Dean_ knows; that’s how bad it is! It’s ridiculous, Luci, and I don’t think I can take much more.”

Lucifer laughed in spite of himself, shaking his head. “So, when you go back to the bunker, you’ll want me to tag along?” He asked, keeping his tone carefully light.

“Of course.” Sam replied, slightly nonplussed. “Why wouldn’t I? If I don’t have someone other than Dean or Cas to talk to, I’m gonna go crazy. I’m not too fond of being the third wheel.” Noticing Lucifer’s confusion, Sam added; “A third wheel is when two people are dating and there’s one single person who has to hang out with them. Cas and Dean aren’t dating, so it’s not a perfect comparison, but you get the idea.”

Lucifer nodded, not bothering to correct Sam’s assumption. He’d fully understood the connotations of a “third wheel”; no, what confused him was _why_ Sam wanted him around. Sam seemed fond enough of him, but evidently still had some issues. No doubt they were the by-product of foggy memories of the Cage and the hallucinations that had driven him insane.

“Luci?” Sam’s hand was on his shoulder, the hunter’s brow heavy with concern. “Are you alright? You went quiet for a minute there.”

“You should sleep, Sam.” Lucifer replied, ignoring the disappointment that flickered over the hunter’s face. “It’s late, and who knows what tomorrow will bring? You’ll need to be well-rested.”

Sam bit his lip, clearly unhappy with ending their conversation. He obeyed nonetheless, getting up from his perch next to Lucifer and crawling into the motel bed. The hunter’s disappointment was palpable in the silence of the motel room, but Lucifer did his best to ignore it. 

Lucifer’s attempts to ignore the guilt clawing at his insides went out the window when Sam started fisting his hands in the covers, helpless whimpers escaping his throat. _Great. Another nightmare._ Sighing, Lucifer got up, trekking over to the bed to lay a gentle hand on Sam’s shoulder, shaking him awake.

“Whuh?” Sam slurred, eyes heavy with sleep.

“You were having a nightmare.” Lucifer said. “I can stop them.”

Sam frowned, struggling to connect the dots. “You...can stop my nightmares?” He asked, some of the brightness returning to his eyes. 

Lucifer nodded. “I need permission, though. You have to let me in.”

“Let you in.” Sam repeated, growing wary. “You mean, let you inside my head.” Lucifer nodded, wincing slightly. Sam propped himself up on a pillow, his tan skin standing out starkly against the white fabric. The hunter sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Look, Luci, it’s not that I don’t trust you, it’s just-”

“It ended badly for you the last time, I know.” Lucifer finished, inclining his head apologetically. “I’m sorry, Sam, I should’ve known better than to ask.” He started to pull away, but the hunter grabbed his arm, anchoring him in place.

“Wait.” Sam said quietly. “Just...wait, please?”

Lucifer stood obediently, not moving a muscle as the hunter seemed to wrestle with himself. Finally, Sam sighed, sagging against his pillows. 

“Can you watch over me, like Cas does for Dean?” Sam asked, staring resolutely at the ceiling. Lucifer raised an eyebrow at the color that flushed the hunter’s cheeks, but nodded.

“If you want me to stay, I will.” He answered simply. Sam nodded jerkily, a muscle working in his jaw. The hunter finally let go of Lucifer’s arm, and turned away from the archangel, punching his pillow into a more comfortable position. Sam’s whispered “thank you” was barely audible, but Lucifer heard it. He smiled, warmed, as he listened to Sam’s breathing gradually slow, falling into a deep, steady rhythm. Something in the sound comforted Lucifer, and he settled himself on a chair next to the hunter’s bed, watching silently as Sam slept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I rewrote this chapter a few times, but I'm still a little hesitant about it. It occurred to me that I was trying to make them love each other before they did anything physical, and, well, that's not very realistic for most people. Ah well. Hopefully they have chemistry, because god knows this slow burn has gone on long enough.
> 
> Also, I'm basing Lucifer's experience with sensation off of how Castiel said that everything tasted like molecules when he was an angel. Basically, angels understand sensation on a scientific level, where the molecules of something are designed to be smooth, and so they understand it as smooth. Now that Lucifer is actually inhabiting a body, he feels sensation as normal people would.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this update!


	11. Temptation

“There are some sensations I want to experience, Sam.” 

Sam looked up from his plate of eggs, arching an eyebrow. “What?”

Lucifer rolled his eyes. “Sensations, Sam. Remember our little chat last night? There are some sensations I want to experience.”

Sam swallowed his mouthful of egg, staring at the archangel. “And you wanted to tell me this now because…?”

The Devil grinned wolfishly. “Is this a bad time, Sammy?”

Sam looked around the diner, taking in the other inhabitants. It was mostly empty, but there were a few tired-looking individuals drowning in their cheap coffee. They weren’t the issue, though. The issue was Dean, who was currently “picking up his food.” _More like picking up the waitress._ Was it too much to ask that they go one hunt without Dean trying to sleep with someone? 

As though he’d sensed that Sam was thinking about him, Dean turned around, flashing his brother a quick thumbs-up before turning back to the waitress, leaning over the counter so that he was only inches away from her. Sam grimaced, and turned back to Lucifer.

“Fine, you can tell me about what you want to experience, but make it quick. I don’t want Dean to be on my ass all day.”

Lucifer grinned, toying with the saltshaker on the table. ‘Well..” He said, stretching the word out into a languid drawl, “I’d like to be able to taste food, for starters. It’s a bit too molecular for my liking. Sleep would be interesting, but it seems counterproductive to have to miss so many hours of the day in order to function.” The archangel bit his lip, Sam’s eyes briefly catching on the movement before he forced himself to look away. Unfortunately for Sam, Lucifer noticed his interest, and the grin on Lucifer’s face widened, taking on a predatory quality.

“I suppose some more _human_ interactions would be fun to experience.” Lucifer continued, eyes gleaming. “I’ve never gotten drunk; that would certainly be an interesting experience. It’s only fair that I try to understand the allure of such sinful activities; after all, I am the Lord of Sin, am I not?” Lucifer winked, flicking out a forked tongue to swipe over his bottom lip. Sam took an unnecessarily large gulp of coffee to hide his reaction, making Lucifer smirk.

“What’re you two talking about?”

Dean’s gruff voice pulled Sam back to reality fast enough to give him whiplash. The taller hunter ducked his head, running a hand through his hair to give him a moment to collect himself. 

“We were, uh, we were discussing the case.” Sam said, sliding over to give Dean room to sit down. Dean glared at him suspiciously, but thankfully didn’t press further.

“So what’s the plan?” Sam asked once Dean had gotten settled.

Dean grunted, taking a large bite of food before answering. Sam waiting impatiently for his brother to finish, fingers tapping an anxious drumbeat on his leg under the table.

_Relax, Sammy, or Big Brother will get suspicious._

Sam forced himself to stop, briefly clenching his hand into a fist at his side before relaxing it to rest normally on his leg. He flashed Lucifer a brief smile of thanks, which the angel acknowledged with a wink. Dean, who didn’t appear to have noticed their little interaction, finished chewing, and washed down his food with a mouthful of coffee.

“Right, well, we’ve got a suspect and a dead girl. I’ll talk to the kid, see if I can rattle him into giving anything up. You two talk to the dead girl’s parents, find out where she’s buried, any belongings or keepsakes of hers, you know the drill. We’ll check out the girl’s grave tonight and burn her.” Dean said, glancing briefly at Lucifer before continuing to address Sam. “Keep it professional, Sammy. It’s a small town, and word will get around if we start acting like Small’s death is a revenge killing. We don’t want a lynch mob on our hands.”

Sam sighed. “I know, Dean. Tread lightly, don’t freak people out with ghosts, and Small got strangled. I know.”

Dean pointed sternly at Sam with his fork. “I know _you_ know, Sam, but Satan doesn’t. I’m not having this hunt go south cause Blondie over there doesn’t know the drill.”

Sam pulled a face. “Come on, Dean, we’ll be fine. Lucifer was fine with the interrogation yesterday, and I’m sure he’ll be just as helpful today.” Dean didn’t look convinced, but Sam gave him his best puppy eyes, and Dean relented.

“Okay, fine, but as soon as you’re done with the parents, I want you to call me with an update. Even if you don’t find anything out, I need more than a text to let me know you’re alive and kicking, you understand?” Dean said sternly. Sam nodded.   
“Good.” Dean said gruffly, pulling out his wallet and slapping a handful of bills down on the table. “Do you need a ride to the parent’s place, or are you good to walk?”

“Walking’s fine.” Sam said, smiling reassuringly. Dean flashed him a tight smile before disappearing out of the diner. The roar of the Impala’s engines signalled his departure, and Sam sagged back against the seat with a sigh, running a hand through his hair. “Ready for another interrogation, Luci?” He asked, looking up at the archangel with a weary smile.

“It’ll be faster if I fly us there.” Lucifer remarked as they walked towards the Johnson’s house. Sam frowned, confused.

“You can fly? I thought your angel-powers were limited by the cuffs.” He said, glancing at Lucifer’s wrists suspiciously. Lucifer lifted his hands, the cuffs briefly reappearing before disappearing from sight once more. The archangel frowned, apparently irritated by the cuff’s existence.

“The handcuffs are a hinderance, yes, but I think I could still manage a short trip.” Lucifer said, examining his wrists closely. 

“Forget it.” Sam said. “I’m not letting you zap anywhere. You’re staying close, where I can keep an eye on you. Dean would have my ass on a platter if he found out I let you zap off somewhere. Besides, I’m not _that_ naive. You’ll probably zap us into a dungeon somewhere and leave me to rot.”

Lucifer looked hurt. “Vivid ass-platter imagery aside, Sam, I’m offended. How could you think I could do something like that?” Wounded, the archangel put a hand over his heart, his eyes mournful. “I thought you trusted me.”

“I do trust you, Luci, but I’m not stupid.” Sam sighed. “Walking isn’t that much slower.”

“Fair enough.” Lucifer said cheerily. “Lead the way.” They fell into step, walking side-by-side along the narrow road, the sun overhead hot enough to make Sam wish he wasn’t wearing a suit. Sam tugged at his collar, wishing he could loosen his tie, the heat growing uncomfortable as they continued walking.

“You sure you don’t want me to zap us there?” Lucifer asked, smirking at the hunter’s discomfort. Sam scowled, glaring at Lucifer. The archangel was annoyingly unfazed by the heat, despite being clad in a dark suit. 

“No.” Sam growled, walking faster. “Let’s just get there quickly, okay?”

“You could always lose a layer if you’re feeling warm.” Lucifer purred, nudging Sam suggestively. Sam rolled his eyes, opening his mouth to retort. His snarky reply went out the window when Lucifer put a hand on his lower back, guiding him through a cluster of people outside of the victim’s house. The archangel’s hand lingered for a moment longer than absolutely necessary, before Lucifer slowly pulled away, smirking.

“I can handle myself, thanks.” Sam scolded, trying to ignore the blush that was creeping up his cheeks. He quickened his pace, almost jogging down the sidewalk in his eagerness to get away from Lucifer, away from a situation that was spiraling out of control and led to places that, while intriguing, were a Bad Idea.

Thankfully for Sam’s sanity, they arrived at the Johnson’s house without further incident. The door was answered by a harried-looking woman, who waved them in after barely glancing at their IDs. Not that Sam was really complaining. The IDs were fake. It was probably best that she didn’t look closely.

“Frank, there’s some agents here to talk to us about Mr. Small’s death.” Ms. Johnson called, leading Sam and Lucifer into a spacious living room. 

“‘Bout time someone showed up.” Frank grunted from behind a newspaper. “Small died a few days ago. I figured someone’d be here the next day, accusing me of murdering that bastard.”

“Frank, please.” 

“Don’t “Frank, please” me, Martha.” Frank snapped. “Small killed our little girl. Way I see it, he got what he deserves.”

“That so, Mr. Johnson?” Sam asked, taking out a small notebook. “You are aware that Mr. Small was murdered, aren’t you?”

Frank glared at Sam over the top of his newspaper, giving the hunter an appraising once-over before replying. “Yes, Agent, I am aware. But that doesn’t change my feelings for the man. I’ll go on record saying I think he deserved it, but I’m not the one that did it. I assume that’s what you’re here to accuse me of.”

“Actually, we’re here to talk to you about Amy’s boyfriend. Marcus, right?” Sam replied coldly, raising an eyebrow. Frank’s glare intensified, but he relented, putting down the newspaper to give the hunter his full attention.

“Yeah.” Frank answered, eyes narrowing suspiciously. “Why? He in some kind of trouble?”

Sam shrugged. “Could be. You’re not the only person in town who thinks Mr. Small got what he deserved, Mr. Johnson, and we have to investigate every possibility. How did Marcus react when Mr. Small was exonerated?”

“He was angry, same as the rest of us. Thought Small got off easy.” Frank replied. “But I don’t think Marcus has it in him to _kill_ somebody, even someone like Small.”

“Who would?” Sam asked.

Frank sighed, rustling his newspaper. “I know it won’t help you to hear this, Agent, but I don’t think anyone in this town would be capable of killing Small. He wasn’t popular, but we don’t have any cold-blooded killers around here.”

“Clearly you do.” Lucifer interjected. “I understand your reluctance to condemn one of your neighbors, but someone killed Mr. Small, and we need to find out who.”

Frank glared suspiciously at Lucifer, and the archangel glared right back, eyes cold and hard. Sam almost felt bad for Frank. He wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of Lucifer’s glare.

“Alright, fine.” Frank grumbled. “Marcus has taken to visiting Amy’s grave a lot more recently. He’s been pretty wrapped up in his own head, talking about how Small got off easy. I told him that he’s got to move on, even if justice wasn’t served. He didn’t want to listen.”

“Where is your daughter buried?” Sam asked, standing up to leave.

“Local cemetery, about fifteen minutes outside of town.” Frank answered. “Why?”

“Marcus might be there.” Sam called over his shoulder. “We need to ask him a few questions.” He paused at the threshold, turning to face the house’s inhabitants. “Thank you. You’ve been very helpful.”

“Charming.” Lucifer remarked as they set off for the cemetery.

“Shut up.” Sam grumbled. “I was trying my best.” Ignoring Lucifer’s smirk, Sam pulled out his phone, dialling Dean. It rang twice before his brother picked up.

“Hey, Dean, Amy’s buried in a cemetery just outside town. Luci and I are gonna head over and check it out. How’d it go with Marcus?”

Dean snorted. “Kid’s a testosterone-fueled idiot. I could see him killing the guy, but I don’t think he’s smart enough to keep his mouth shut about his girlfriend coming back from the dead.”

Sam frowned. “She has to be back; there’s no other way that someone could get in and out of a locked room.”

“Well, if she is back, she’s doing a good job of keeping quiet. Meet you at the cemetery?”

Sam glanced at Lucifer, who was staring ever-so-innocently at the clouds. Yeah. He was definitely listening in on the conversation. Rolling his eyes, Sam sighed. “Dean, we can’t burn the bones now. We’ll have to wait till tonight. Luci and I can check out a graveyard without getting in trouble.”

There was a silence following his words, during which Dean was no doubt debating whether or not he should bully Sam into letting him come along. Finally, there was a distorted sigh, accompanied by a rush of static, as Dean relented.

“Fine, you two can check out the graveyard. I’m gonna head back to the crime scene, talk to some of the locals and see if there’s anything we missed the first time around.” Another pause, then: “Stay safe, Sammy.”

“I will, Dean. Don’t worry.” He hung up, turning to Lucifer. “We’re on our own for the cemetery.”

“Excellent.” Lucifer purred. He offered Sam his arm, the epitome of a charming, debonair gentleman escorting a beautiful woman. “Shall we?” He asked, grinning roguishly.

Sam made a face, refusing to take Lucifer’s arm. “Grow up, Luci.”

Lucifer put a hand over his heart, offended. “I’m several thousand years old, Sam. I should put you over my knee for such insolence.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Oh, shut up, Luci.” Lucifer mimed zipping his lips shut, giving the hunter a jaunty wink. “Come on, we need to check out the cemetery before it gets dark.”

“So this is the girl’s grave?” Lucifer asked, peering curiously at the words on the headstone. Sam leaned over, skimming the inscription. Beloved daughter, will be missed, etc. Standard stuff. He nodded. 

“Looks like it.” Sam replied, toeing the dirt with his shoe. “Doesn’t look like it’s been disturbed, so the boyfriend hasn’t come looking for her. That’s something, I guess.”

“Would he have to dig her up to get her to come back?” Lucifer asked, frowning down at the grace. Sam shook his head.  
“No, she could come back if she was wronged enough, or if there was something tying her here, like a diary or a dress or whatnot. Just, you know,” He gestured at the ground with a helpless sort of shrug. “If my girlfriend came back from the dead, I’d check to see if she was still in the ground.”

Lucifer drew closer to the hunter, until Sam could feel the archangel’s breath on the back of his neck. “So, what do we do next?” He murmured, his breath ghosting over Sam’s neck. Sam shivered, swallowing hard. 

“We go back to the motel and tell Dean what we found.” Sam answered, struggling to keep his voice steady. Lucifer made a small noise of disapproval, one of his hands tracing up Sam’s back to rest of his shoulder.

“What if Dean’s not at the motel?” Lucifer asked, the barest hint of suggestion creeping into his voice. “What do we do then?”

“We keep busy.” Sam replied, heart pounding in his chest. “We do research into the girl’s death, Small’s death, and the boyfriend’s history.”

Lucifer pouted. “Sounds boring.” Sam shrugged, laughing nervously. “Aren’t there more interesting things we can do to, ah, _keep busy_?” Lucifer murmured, his hand snaking down Sam’s front to wind around his tie. 

Sam swallowed nervously, slowly turning to face the Devil. Lucifer’s eyes were dark, gleaming with amusement, his wide bowed lips curved upwards in a wicked grin. Sam let out a nervous laugh, ducking his head to cover his blush. Lucifer caught his chin, tipping it upwards with a finger. Sam forgot how to breath, his lips parted slightly as Lucifer’s gaze tracked over his face. The archangel’s gaze lingered on Sam’s lips, then made its way back up. Ice-blue eyes dark with hunger locked on Sam’s hazel ones, and Sam couldn’t help the way his gaze kept flicking down to stare at the archangel’s lips.

They were close, they were so close and Sam found himself leaning forward, until they were breathing the same air. Lucifer’s eyes were dark, hungry, _dangerous_ , and Sam should’ve been scared, he knew he should’ve seen that expression and felt his blood run cold, but it made him feel _special_. Sam Winchester, the freak, the boy with the demon blood, was being looked at like a starving man looks at a five-course meal, and it made him feel special and wanted and needed.

Some part of Sam’s brain told him that this maybe wasn’t healthy thinking, that this was a dangerous road to go down, that he should definitely run away screaming, but he didn’t care. He needed this; he needed one thing in his goddamn life that didn’t look at him like he was going to sprout an extra head, one thing that didn’t treat him like a junkie that was about to relapse, one thing that didn’t treat him like a damn freak. He needed something that didn’t feel _wrong_ , like Ruby had. He needed something that didn’t feel like a betrayal, and if that thing was the Devil, well, so be it.

“Penny for your thoughts, Sammy.” Lucifer murmured, a knowing smirk curling the side of his mouth.

“You know damn well what I’m thinking.” Sam growled, glaring down at the archangel.

“Mmm.” Lucifer murmured thoughtfully, tapping Sam’s chest lightly. “I suppose I do.” Lucifer wound Sam’s tie around his hand, using it to pull the hunter down. Sam complied, his eyes closing slightly as Lucifer’s breath ghosted over his cheek. The hunter shivered as Lucifer’s scruff rubbed ever so slightly against his neck as the archangel whispered in his ear; “Research?”

Sam jerked back, Lucifer’s grip on his tie loosening as the hunter pulled away. Sam stared at the archangel, dumbfounded, his mouth hanging open in shock. Lucifer’s eyes glittered with amusement. “What can I say, Sammy? I couldn’t resist.” Lucifer purred, eyes tracking over Sam’s body without an ounce of shame. Sam closed his mouth, frantically searching for a retort, but Lucifer beat him too it.

“Oh, don’t worry, Sam. I knew _exactly_ what you were thinking.” Lucifer grinned, winking at the tall hunter. “But I know better than to give in to temptation.” Sam snorted, laughing as the archangel turned his away virtuously.

“Yeah, right.” Sam rolled his eyes. “You, of all people, should understand temptation.”

“Oh, I understand it.” Lucifer said, his eyes dark. “And you’ll have to do much better than that if you want me to give in.” He smirked, walking away from the graveyard, leaving Sam standing dumbfounded by a grave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at that, I got plot and Samifer in the same chapter. Woo! Go me! Featuring the return of Sam and Lucifer's silent conversations, which there will hopefully be a lot of in the future.
> 
> As an aside, my writing schedule has been pretty brutal for me, because I've been updating 2, sometimes 3 stories a week. I hope to keep this story updating every week, but if they're sometimes late, I apologize. Normally I'm fine with the writing workload, because it's summer, but this week was a little overwhelming. Again, hopefully this story won't be affected, and will update as planned, but I just wanted you guys to know ahead of time if updates will be late.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter! The slow burn is heating up and I am thoroughly enjoying making Lucifer a tease.


	12. Putting On A Show

“So, you ready to burn the bones?” Dean asked, draining the rest of his beer. Sam looked out the window, peering into the darkness. It was a few hours after sunset, late enough that no one would be out, and dark enough to hide them.

“Sounds good to me.” Sam replied, standing and grabbing his jacket. Dean grabbed the door handle, then hesitated. Cursing under his breath, he beckoned Sam forward, glancing furtively behind the tall hunter to glare at Lucifer, who was hanging back by the window.

“What are we gonna do about Satan?” Dean asked in a low voice. Sam’s brow furrowed in confusion.

“What do you mean, “do about him?”” Sam asked, confused. “We can’t leave him, and I’m not letting you burn the bones by yourself.”

Dean shifted, gnawing at the inside of his lip. “Sam, I don’t trust him to come along with us. If he escapes while we’re digging up a casket, Cas’ll kill us, not to mention the fact that we’ll have to find the blonde son of a bitch.”

Sam scoffed. “Are you serious, Dean? He’s had plenty of opportunities to escape, if he really wanted to. Lucifer’s not gonna run off now.”

Dean glared at Sam, his brow heavy with suspicion. Sam glared right back, refusing to back down. This argument was ridiculous. For some reason, Lucifer wasn’t running off, and Sam wasn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth. If the archangel wanted to help them, fine. Sam wasn’t about to play therapist and try to get Lucifer to explain himself.

“Fine.” Dean snapped, turning away and opening the door. “But you’re keeping an eye on him. Anything goes wrong, it’s on you.”

“Blaming things on me; what a novel idea.” Sam muttered under his breath, turning back to Lucifer and signaling him to follow. The archangel smirked, following the hunter out of the motel. 

“Hand me that shovel.” Dean barked, slamming the door of the Impala behind him. Sam clambered out of the car, breathing a sigh of relief as he stretched his legs. He went around to the trunk of the car, popping it and grabbing two shovels out of the back. Dean’s silhouette was barely visible, standing over the girl’s grave, blowing warm air on his hands as the chill of the night set it.

“What about me?” Lucifer asked, motioning towards the shovels. Sam paused, one hand on top of the trunk. He looked at the shovels, brow furrowing as he considered the issue. The hunter shrugged, shutting the trunk.

“Guess you’re on lookout duty.” Sam said, heading over towards his brother. The archangel trailed along behind him, taking in their surroundings. The shadows of the headstones cast eerie stretches of darkness along the ground, the cold of the night doing nothing to ease the vaguely unsettling nature of breaking into a graveyard at night.

“If you ask me, the dead should stay dead.” Lucifer said, perching on top of a nearby gravestone. Sam looked up at him, snorting in disbelief.  
“You created demons.”  
Lucifer waved a hand dismissively. “That’s beside the point, Sammy. These ghosts...they’re unnatural. Demons are...repurposing. Think of the human body as a couch, or a chair. Demons are reupholstery.” The archangel smiled genially, evidently pleased with his metaphor.

Sam wrinkled his nose in disgust. “That’s gross, Luci.” Lucifer smirked, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. Sam stuck out his tongue at the archangel, quietly enjoying the childish banter. It was a relief to have someone to talk to on a hunt, besides his brother and Castiel. It was nice to have someone around who _liked_ him.

“Quit flirting, you two.” Dean snapped, jabbing his finger accusingly in Sam’s direction. “Help me dig up this grave, or we’ll be here all night.” Sam grimaced apologetically and returned to work, digging his shovel into the earth and shoveling out spades of dirt.

_Didn’t realize we were flirting, Sammy._

The archangel’s voice resonated in Sam’s head, making the hunter jerk sharply. Dean looked quizzically at him, but Sam shook him off. “Got a chill.” Sam said. Dean nodded and turned back to shovelling the dirt out of the grave. Sam glanced quickly at the archangel. Lucifer’s lips quirked up in a mischievous smirk, resting his chin on the palm of his hand.

_If I was flirting, you’d know._ Sam shot back, stabbing the ground with his shovel slightly harder than absolutely necessary.

_Oh, I’m sure I would._ The archangel’s amused voice echoed in the hunter’s head. _And let me assure you, the reverse is also true. If I were trying to seduce you, you’d already be naked._

Sam coughed, covering his face with his elbow to hide his blush. He snuck a sidelong glance at Lucifer, and saw the archangel’s lips curl with amusement. 

_Who’s to say I couldn’t put on a show while I did it?_ Sam replied, hoping that it was dark enough to cover his blush. He felt, rather than saw, Lucifer’s surprise.

_Naughty thing, aren’t you, Sammy?_ Lucifer admonished, his tone chastising, but Sam could detect the amusement behind it. The hunter redoubled his efforts to dig up the grave, ignoring the prickling sensation on the back of his neck that signaled that Lucifer’s gaze was trained on him. 

_There’s a lot about me you don’t know, Luci._ Sam retorted.

_Mmm, do tell._

Sam was saved from having to respond by his shovel hitting wood. He beckoned Dean over, and Dean nodded, dropping to his knees to scoop handfuls of dirt off the coffin. Sam helped him, bending over to scrape the hinges clear so that they could pry open the lid of the coffin.

_There’s a pretty sight to see._

Sam coughed, shooting a quick glare at Lucifer. The archangel winked, unabashedly staring at Sam’s ass. Lucifer gestured for Sam to continue his work, smirking as the hunter flushed.

_You could help, you know._ Sam grumbled, wincing in disgust as a beetle scuttled over his hand. 

_What, and miss the show? I wouldn’t dream of it._ Sam gritted his teeth in frustration at Lucifer’s smug voice. What he wouldn’t give to slap the insufferable grin off the archangel’s face…

Any thoughts of harming Lucifer went out the window as Sam lifted the lid of the coffin. He stared down at the empty bed, uncomprehending for a moment. 

“Where’s-Where’s the bones?” Dean asked, dumbfounded. Sam shrugged, lost for words. Lucifer peered over the edge, making a noise of interest when he saw the empty coffin.

“Interesting.” The archangel mused.

Dean rounded on Lucifer, smacking his palm against the dirt in frustration. “Interesting? You think this is some stupid _game_? People are dying, and you can’t be bothered to get your lazy, feathery ass down here to help dig up the grave. Maybe you should use your special little “angel-powers” to find the girl and stop her!” He shouted, his chest heaving in rage.

Lucifer glared coldly at Dean, his eyes circles of ice. “Watch your tone, boy.” The archangel snarled, his tone malevolent. 

“Make me!” Dean snapped.

It was possibly the worst thing he could have said.

In an instant, Lucifer was in the grave with them, nose-to-nose with the older hunter. He tipped Dean’s chin upward, holding him tight in a vice-like grip. Dean opened his mouth to say something, and a look of confusion spread across his face as nothing came out. Dean’s face screwed up in anger, silently shouting obscenities at Lucifer. The archangel watched, uncaring, as Dean’s face reddened, the hunter clearly furious. Lucifer laughed, a hollow, empty noise that sent chills down Sam’s spine.

“Lucifer.” Sam said quietly, gripping his shovel tightly. The archangel turned to look at him, his gaze hard. “Let him go.” Sam whispered. “Please.”

“Begging.” Lucifer observed. “That’s not like you, Sam.”

“Let him go.” Sam said, more insistently this time. He lifted the shovel, as though he would hit the archangel over the head with it. Lucifer gave him a withering glare.  
“A shovel? I’m terrified.” His voice dripped with contempt, and Sam couldn’t help swallowing nervously. Somewhere down the line, he’d forgotten how damn terrifying the archangel could be. 

_I’ll make it up to you._ Sam pleaded.

Lucifer stopped, the hunter’s words hitting like a truck. Sam held his breath, watching as the archangel’s face slipped into a neutral mask. 

_Make it up to me?_

There was something in Lucifer’s tone that made Sam pause. He took a moment to think over his reply before speaking. Given their recent flirting, Lucifer would no doubt expect something sexual as repayment for letting Dean go. Granted, Sam wasn’t exactly opposed to that, per se, but this wasn’t the way he’d imagined it happening.

_You don’t have to make it up to me._ Lucifer said, his voice strangely soft and quiet in Sam’s head.

_Thank you._ The hunter replied, giving Lucifer a grateful smile. Lucifer gave him a barely perceptible nod, before turning back to Dean as though the older hunter were a cockroach, or a perhaps a particularly stubborn piece of gum stuck to the bottom of his shoe.

“You son of a bitch!” Dean shouted, clearly intent on using his voice as much as possible now that he had it back.

“Yes, you’ve established that quite clearly already, Dean.” Lucifer replied mildly. “Now, if you’ve finished hurling childish insults at me, can we focus on the case?”

A muscle in Dean’s jaw worked, the hunter clearly unhappy with the prospect of giving in to Lucifer. Sam laid a hand on his brother’s arm, silently pleading with him to stay silent. It took a moment, but Dean gave in, his posture relaxing into a suitably non-threatening stance. 

Sam sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He had a killer headache brewing, and he was running out of patience for Dean and Lucifer’s seemingly endless arguments. 

Sensing his irritation, Lucifer stayed mercifully quiet as they reburied the empty coffin and headed back to the Impala. Dean made no attempts to fill in the silence, and Sam preferred it that way. Too often, Dean filled awkward silences with loud rock music or by staring deeply into Castiel’s eyes. 

They made it back to the motel without further incident. Dean collapsed on his bed and declared that staying awake was for suckers and instructing Sam to keep the noise to a minimum. Sam rolled his eyes at his brother’s theatrics, throwing his bag down next to his bed. Sighing, he ran a hand through his hair, wincing as his fingers got caught in the sweat-slicked grime. He resigned himself to the motel’s shower, making a face as the shower coughed out suspiciously-colored water before finally running hot and relatively clean.

Sam tilted his head back, sighing as the warm water ran down his chest. He stood like that for a minute, eyes closed as he savored the feeling of the water against his bare skin. After a moment, he ducked his head forward, his long hair falling in front of his face in dark locks as the water ran over the crown of his head.

“Need a hand?”

Sam jumped, swearing viciously as he fought to keep his balance, grabbing onto the rail of the shower curtain for support. Lucifer arched an eyebrow, watching with amusement as Sam regained his balance, the hunter staring pointedly at the wall instead of the archangel.

“What are you doing here?” Sam hissed, shuffling so that his back was to the archangel. “Why didn’t Dean stop you?”

Lucifer shrugged. “Dean’s...asleep.” He replied, choosing his words carefully.

Sam groaned. “You knocked him out, didn’t you?” He asked, resigned to the answer even before Lucifer gave a quiet “yes” from behind him. Sam resisted the urge to bang his head against the wall of the shower, instead taking a moment to apologize to whoever he’d pissed off that was now putting him through this.

“Why are you in my shower, Luci?” Sam asked, resigning himself to the inevitability of the situation.

“Oh, well, I thought since you’d had such a terribly trying day, it might do you some good to have a...neutral third party to confide in.” Lucifer replied smoothly, settling himself down on the edge of the sink. Sam snorted. 

“And _you’re_ supposed to be the neutral third party? _Please_.”

Lucifer snickered, inclining his head to concede the point. “Okay, so I’m not neutral. Nobody’s perfect. Doesn’t mean that you can’t confide in me.”

Sam rolled his eyes, turning off the water and grabbing a towel. He wrapped it snugly around his waist, pointedly taking his time, before finally turning the face Lucifer. The archangel was perched on the edge of the sink, one leg stretched out to rest on the toilet. Lucifer’s gaze trailed over Sam’s body, taking in the hunter’s physique as Sam stood, stock-still, waiting for Lucifer to get his fill.

“Why, Sammy, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you wanted me to look at you.” Lucifer remarked mildly, his eyes gleaming with amusement. Sam swallowed hard, fighting the urge to cover himself. That was why he hadn’t kicked Lucifer out, right? Hadn’t he promised the archangel a show?

“What if I did?” Sam asked quietly, shifting nervously as Lucifer arched an eyebrow. The archangel paused, his lips slightly parted, and stared at Sam for a long, nerve-wracking moment.

Finally, Lucifer’s gaze dropped, his mouth twisting into a bitter smile. “Sam, you know you don’t owe me anything, don’t you?” Sensing the hunter’s confusion, Lucifer added; “You don’t have to make anything up to me.”

Sam flushed, ducking his head awkwardly. “I-I know.” He said quickly. “I wasn’t doing this as a way of paying you back. I-” He bit his lip nervously, the words coming out of him in a rush. “I wanted you to look at me.”

Lucifer’s smile turned predatory, his eyes darkening in an instant. “Well, in that case,” He purred, sliding off the sink with an almost languid sensuality. “What were you hoping to accomplish by having me look at you?”

Sam shrugged in what he hoped was a casual, nonchalant way. “Oh, nothing much.” He said, taking a step backward as Lucifer advanced. Sam couldn’t help the nervous intake of breath that escaped him when his back hit the wall, and Lucifer seemed to zero in on the noise. The archangel’s lips curled in a wicked smile, and he pressed closer, so that there was barely an inch of space separating their bodies. 

“Is that so?” Lucifer purred, arching an eyebrow imperiously. Sam swallowed nervously, his pulse racing as the archangel leaned forward, his arms on either of side of Sam, effectively trapping the hunter.

“That’s a shame.” Lucifer murmured, his breath ghosting over Sam’s skin. “If you’d wanted something to happen…” He trailed off, running a finger down Sam’s bare chest, stopping just above where the towel hung dangerously low on Sam’s hips. The archangel lingered there for a moment, watching the way Sam’s chest heaved and eyes darkened with lust even from such small contact. Lucifer’s grin widened, and he let out a low chuckle, tracing his finger absentmindedly over Sam’s hips.

“What do you say, Sammy?” Lucifer whispered, his hand curling gently around the towel.

Sam took a deep, shuddering breath. He was hard just thinking about what Lucifer could do to him. Thinking about those fantasies coming to life...shit, he had to fight back the urge to moan as he imagined Lucifer’s hand on his cock, the archangel’s mouth pressed against his own, Lucifer fucking him against the wall of the bathroom until Sam came so hard he forgot his name.

“Well, Sammy?” Lucifer purred, running a fingertip along the skin underneath the towel. “What do you say?”

Sam closed his eyes for a moment, bracing himself. He opened them, and saw Lucifer’s eyes, dark with lust and staring hungrily at him, and felt a hot spark of lust travel lazily down to pool in his gut.

“Yes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end is nigh! For the slow burn, at least. There was a plot development and Samifer is imminent, so I'd count that as a win in my book.
> 
> I'm gonna take a moment to give a shoutout to Hades_The_Blingking (I'm bad at linking things so look 'em up if you're interested). They're honestly a gift to the Samifer tag because holy shit they're an incredible writer and if you've never read any of their works, you should, because you're missing out on some of the best writing I've seen on this website. I would've never started this little fic if I hadn't been inspired by their incredible writing.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this update and I hope you're looking forward to the next chapter ;)


	13. Submission

Sam sucked in a breath as Lucifer tore the towel away from his body, the archangel’s lips catching his in a bruising kiss. Sam let out a low moan as Lucifer caught his lower lip between his teeth, sucking gently. The archangel pressed against him, the rough denim of his jeans rubbing against Sam’s exposed cock, the friction making him hiss. Lucifer allowed Sam to thrust against him for a moment, then strong hands gripped the hunter’s hips hard enough to bruise, forcing him to still.

Sam moaned as Lucifer held him still, the archangel thrusting lazily against Sam’s thigh. Lucifer nosed up to Sam’s jaw, biting and sucking at the hunter’s neck. He suckled lazily at the pulse point on Sam’s throat, making the hunter let out a broken moan in response. Satisfied with the dark marks decorating Sam’s throat, Lucifer pressed kisses to the underside of the hunter’s jaw, noting with satisfaction that the hunter’s breathing was harsh and loud in the confined space of the bathroom.

Lucifer made a high noise of surprise as Sam’s restraint broke. The hunter lifted the smaller man, awkwardly maneuvering them over to the sink, which he placed Lucifer down on. Eager fingers grabbed the archangel’s belt, pulling him forward so that he was pressed against the hunter. Sam fought to rid Lucifer of his belt, a task not aided by the archangel’s eager squirming and Lucifer’s mouth on his neck. Lucifer made an impatient gesture, and his belt vanished. Sam gave him a quick grin of thanks, his eyes dark with lust.

Sam tugged Lucifer’s blue jacket off, tossing it onto the floor. Lucifer hissed as Sam pulled at his shirt hard enough to tear the fabric, the hunter yanking it over his head with a kind of desperate ferocity. Lucifer made a disgruntled noise of protest that was muffled by the bruising kiss that the hunter pressed onto his lips. Sam’s hands were all over him, touching the angel as though he feared Lucifer might disappear if they weren’t in constant contact.

Lucifer fisted a hand in the hunter’s hair, tugging Sam’s head back. A throaty moan ripped its way out of Sam’s throat, and Lucifer froze momentarily. A wicked grin spread over his face, and he repeated the motion, harder this time. Sam hissed, hips jerking forward slightly. Lucifer let out a disbelieving laugh. Oh, this was better than Christmas. He slid off the sink, pushing Sam backwards until the hunter’s back hit the wall.

“Any other kinks you’d care to share, Sammy?” Lucifer purred, his fingers carding gently through the hunter’s long hair. Sam swallowed hard, his eyes hazy with lust, and shook his head slightly. Lucifer tutted disapprovingly. “Come now, Sammy, don’t be that way.” He chided, grinding his clothed erection against Sam’s thigh. Sam let out a desperate whine, and tried to touch Lucifer again. Lucifer grabbed the hunter’s hands, pinning them above Sam’s head, and, okay, maybe he cheated and used a little bit of power to keep them there so that he could have his hands free, but Sam didn’t need to know that.

“So, Sammy,” Lucifer said, affecting a conversational tone, “Tell me, what exactly do you want me to do to you?” Sam opened his mouth to reply, but Lucifer cut him off, holding up a finger. “Now, bear in mind, if you can’t come up with anything…” He trailed off, tapping Sam’s chest with his finger. “...I have a very active imagination.” He purred, enjoying the way Sam’s breath caught at that.

“I-I want you to fuck me.” Sam stammered, his throat dry. Lucifer tilted his head to the side, lips pursed in consideration.   
“Hmm.” The archangel mused. “A fascinating theory. Bit direct, bit short on details, but I can work with it.”   
Sam rolled his eyes. How did Lucifer manage to sass him at a time like this? “If your “active imagination” is having trouble coming up with ideas, I could give you some more details.” Sam retorted. 

“Oh, that won’t be necessary, Sammy.” Lucifer said, smirking. “I know exactly what you want.”

Sam couldn’t help the gasp that escaped him when Lucifer spun him around, his chest colliding with the cold plaster of the wall. Lucifer fisted one hand in the hunter’s hair, pulling Sam’s head back to expose his neck, while his other hand circled around Sam’s front, blunt nails scraping down his chest. Sam hissed as the archangel’s nails scraped across a nipple, the sharp sting of pain sending sparks down to his cock. _God_ , he wanted to be touched, he wanted Lucifer’s hand on his cock, he wanted the archangel fucking into him from behind, he wanted to be fucked so hard he forgot his name.

“Those are the kinds of details I wanted to hear, Sammy.” Lucifer purred, punctuating each word with an open-mouthed kiss to Sam’s neck and shoulder. Sam started to retort, but instead gasped embarrassingly loudly as Lucifer gripped his cock. 

“Sorry, didn’t quite catch that.” Lucifer teased, stroking Sam slowly. Sam groaned helplessly, the sensation of the archangel’s hand on his cock intoxicatingly good. Lucifer kept the pace of his movements agonizingly slow, and, even worse, he occasionally tugged Sam’s hair, exposing his neck and making the hunter’s hips jerk forward unconsciously.

“Fuck, Lucifer, _please_.” Sam moaned, hips stuttering forwards helplessly. Lucifer, the cruel bastard, actually stopped, but kept his hand wrapped around Sam’s cock. Sam groaned, forcing himself to keep still. This was torture, horrible, painful, delicious torture.   
“Please what?”  
Sam let out a frustrated whine. Was Lucifer really going to make him beg? _Of course he’s gonna make me beg. He’s the friggin’ Devil. Why wouldn’t he put me through hell?_

“I’m waiting, Sammy.” Lucifer purred, moving his hand ever so slightly. Sam hissed, the slight friction causing a fat blob of precum to bead at the head of his cock. Lucifer made a pleased noise, reaching out to collect the drop on his finger. Sam’s heart nearly stopped when Lucifer put the offending finger in front of his mouth, clearly prompting Sam to clean it off. Sam opened his mouth, taking the archangel’s finger into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the tip to lick off the precum. It didn’t taste the best, but the hissed moan that Lucifer let out when Sam suckled at his finger more than made up for it.

“I’m still waiting, Sammy.” Lucifer said, his rough and low. Sam smirked. He pressed back against the archangel, rubbing his ass over the prominent bulge in Lucifer’s jeans.

“Worried you won’t be able to keep it up, old man?” Sam asked teasingly, and oh, yeah, he was going to regret that, but he didn’t care, not now, not when he was achingly hard and wanted to get fucked so hard he couldn’t walk.

Sam let out a choked yell as Lucifer pressed a finger inside him, the sudden stiffness making him arch, unsure of whether he wanted to press down on the sensation or get away from the intensity of it. Lucifer must’ve used some angel-mojo before he’d done that, because there was only the slightest sting of pain, accompanied by intoxicatingly good friction as Lucifer slowly pumped his finger into Sam at a torturously slow pace.

“Bet that’s not enough for you, is it?” Lucifer growled, somehow managing to add another finger between slow thrusts. Sam moaned, fighting the urge to fuck himself on the archangel’s fingers until he spilled his release onto the bathroom wall.   
“I’m waiting, Sam.” Lucifer snarled, sucking a painful hickey onto Sam’s shoulder. Sam gasped, frantically shaking his head.

“No, no, god, please, Lucifer, more, more, please.” Sam pleaded, not caring that he was begging. Lucifer smirked, clearly pleased.  
“There’s a good boy, Sammy.” The archangel purred, trailing his hand down the hunter’s front to grasp his cock. Sam let out a broken moan, hips jerking instinctively. He shuddered, unsure of whether to grind down on the fingers in his ass, or thrust into the tight circle of Lucifer’s palm.

Sam was drawing dangerously close to the edge, his cock dripping precum onto the archangel’s fist. Lucifer tutted disapprovingly, and suddenly, Sam was left frustratingly empty when the digits in his ass receded, coupled with the removal of Lucifer’s hand from his cock. Sam let out a high, needy whine, and Lucifer chuckled darkly from behind him.

“Can’t have you ending this fun too soon, can I?” Lucifer murmured, and Sam let out a frustrated groan as a tight leather band encircled the base of his cock.   
“Please, Lucifer,” Sam whined. “Please, I want to cum, please, god-”  
“God?” Lucifer remarked, his face wrinkling with displeasure. “Oh, Sammy, there’s nothing _holy_ about what we’re doing here, and I’d prefer you not mention my father during sex. It’s a bit of a turn-off.”

Sam let out an incredulous laugh that quickly turned into a groan as Lucifer absentmindedly stroked his cock.  
“Oh, you evil bastard.” Sam groaned, his head tilting back as the archangel set an infuriatingly slow pace.  
“You love it.” Lucifer purred, slowly stroking the hunter’s cock. Sam let out a helpless sort of moan, resigning himself to the reality that Satan was touching his dick, and he, a hunter of All Things Bad, was enjoying it more than he should.

Lucifer pressed inside the hunter without any warning, making Sam give a choked yell of surprise.  
“Fuck, Lucifer!” The hunter shouted, jerking upwards. “G-”

Whatever Sam was about to say was lost in a garbled moan when Lucifer fucked into him with a hard, quick thrust, punching a broken moan out of the hunter’s throat. Sam let out a choked groan, his head falling forward to rest against the cool wall as Lucifer pressed inside him.

“Sorry, Sammy, didn’t quite catch that.” Lucifer murmured, snapping his hips forward when Sam opened his mouth to reply. Sam let out a helpless shout, his hips jerking unconsciously as Lucifer fucked him. Stuttered moans and whimpers fell past the hunter’s parted lips, making his cheeks burn. Fuck, he was never this loud, this helpless, this _needy_. Whenever he tried to make a move, tried to regain some semblance of control, Lucifer angled his hips and lit him up, making the hunter see stars, and Sam fucking _loved_ it. 

The archangel began fucking into him in earnest, setting a quick, steady pace, the head of the archangel’s cock hitting the hunter’s prostate with every thrust. It was an odd sensation, at first, but then it grew and grew and grew until it overwhelmed the hunter, desperate cries falling from his lips as he begged for Lucifer to let him cum.

The evil bastard did not.

Instead, the archangel quickened the pace of his thrusts, fucking Sam harder, until the hunter’s head lolled back, his eyes half-lidded and hazy with pleasure. His cock _hurt_ , dripping precum at a steady pace, some smearing on the wall when one of Lucifer’s thrusts pushed him forward slightly. Sam moaned helplessly, grinding back against the archangel. He was rewarded with a gasp, hissed out from between gritted teeth as Lucifer’s hips stuttered, the hunter’s movement catching him off-guard.

Sam smirked, slowly fucking back on Lucifer’s cock, revelling in the sharp intake of breath from behind him. The hunter’s smile widened, and he moaned indulgently, arching his neck in a way that he knew looking enticing, teasing the Devil as much as he dared. 

Lucifer did not take kindly to being teased.

Sam let out a strangled yell that was _sure_ to receive a noise complaint as Lucifer fisted a hand in his hair, yanking his head backwards while simultaneously thrusting into him, hard. The archangel didn’t let up, his cock nailing the hunter’s prostate with every thrust, making Sam cry out desperately.

“Please, Lucifer, please, let me cum!” Sam shouted, half out of his mind with lust. Lucifer, the evil bastard, ignored his request, and reached down to stroke a hand over the hunter’s hard cock. Sam whined, his head lolling back onto Lucifer’s shoulder, hips moving into Lucifer’s hand in helpless little thrusts.

“Beg, Sam.” Lucifer growled. “Beg, and I just might _consider_ letting you finish.”

Sam moaned, giving in to Lucifer’s demands without a second thought. “God, please, Luci, please, I’ll be so good for you, I’ll be yours, please, Luci, please…!”

Lucifer hissed out a moan through gritted teeth, Sam’s words sending a hot spike of lust down to pool like fire in his gut. Damn that hunter and his ability to make Lucifer succumb to these desires, these basic, _human_ desires. With a frustrated groan, he dissolved the cock ring, Sam’s cry of relief echoing off the tiled walls. Before Sam’s relief could spread too far, Lucifer wrapped his hand around the base of the hunter’s cock, holding it in a punishingly tight grip. 

“I have half a mind to keep you on edge like this, Sammy.” Lucifer purred, slowly stroking the hunter as he spoke. “Let you try to sleep this frustration off, never let you get the satisfaction you need, so that you’re nice and riled up tomorrow. I’d love to see how far I can push you before you break. Would you like that, hmm? Want to see who’ll win in a little battle of wills?”

The archangel grinned wickedly as Sam went still, clearly considering his words. “Think fast, Sammy.” Lucifer breathed, abruptly changing the pace of his hand so that it mirrored the quick pace of his thrusts. Sensing the hunter’s frustration, Lucifer’s grin widened. Oh, this was too good to be true. Sam wasn’t _actually_ going to take this bet, was he? 

“What do you say, Sam?” Lucifer whispered, idly biting the hunter’s ear as he spoke. “A fiddle of gold against your soul says I’m better than you.”

Sam gritted his teeth, trying to concentrate through the haze of lust clouding his mind. _Dammit, he didn’t want to lose_. But he was so hard it hurt, his cock steadily oozing precum onto the archangel’s fist, and he’d never been so desperate to finish in his life. And Lucifer, the bastard, was stroking him slowly, idly thrusting into him, and Sam was close, Sam was so close…

“Please.”

It was a quiet word, forced out from between gritted teeth, the hunter hardly daring to voice his submission. His cheeks burned as Lucifer chuckled, twisting his hand to elicit a gasp from the hunter. 

“Very well, Sammy.” Lucifer purred, and Sam shouted involuntarily as Lucifer fucked him hard, the shift in pace so abrupt that Sam couldn’t help but let out a choked moan. Sam felt himself approaching the edge embarrassingly quickly, and judging by the stuttered pace of Lucifer’s hips, the archangel wasn’t far behind. 

Sam convulsed, his spine arching back as he came, throwing his head back. He cried out, his cock spilling his release onto Lucifer’s curled hand and onto the tiled wall of the bathroom. Lucifer groaned as the hunter’s muscles clenched tighter around him, the pleasure growing almost painful as he thrust once, twice, into the hunter, finally spilling his seed into Sam with quick, unsteady thrusts.

They stayed like that for a moment, panting, coming down from their highs. Lucifer pulled out, Sam groaning as the archangel’s release dripped stickily onto his thighs. Lucifer smirked. He had half a mind to let Sam clean up the mess himself, as a reminder of their, ah, _activities_ , but he took pity on the hunter, and used a trickle of power to clean Sam.

Sam nodded his thanks, turning to face the archangel on wobbly legs. “So, uh,” He laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. _How was he supposed to talk to the Devil post-coitus?_ “I’m...I’m off to bed, I suppose.” He finished awkwardly, staring determinedly at the floor. Lucifer replied with a quiet affirmative, but Sam barely heard him. He moved towards the door, but felt like he was in some sort of trance or dream, his limbs weighed down as though he were moving through water. He fell onto the bed, pulling the sheets up and burying his head in a pillow.

_I just had sex with the Devil._

_And I loved it._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many apologies for the late update! I lost internet for a few days, and it threw off my writing and update schedule. With that said, school is starting up next week, so if my updates are a little inconsistent, I apologize. I promise I'm not going to abandon this fic, but please bear with me through any future inconsistencies with updating.
> 
> That said, I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Smut is not easy for me to write, and actual sex is even harder (no pun intended), so I hope this turned out okay! It's been a very long, slow burn, and I hope this was a good payoff for as long as you've all been waiting.


	14. A Deal

When Sam woke the next morning, he didn’t immediately sit up. He lay there for a while, eyes pressed tightly closed, dim sunlight filtering in from between the blinds. He tried to steady his breathing, to rethink the events of the previous night from a calm, logical, detached point of view.

He was failing miserably.

For the half an hour or so that he’d been awake, reliving the previous night led to one of two things: One, the reality that he’d had sex with the Devil, the Lord of Evil Satan himself, made him panic, and then he had to spend a few minutes taking slow, deep breaths, trying to fight back the fear that threatened to overwhelm him. Or, two, he got caught up in the actual act of having sex with the Devil, and that led to a frustratingly stubborn erection that took irritatingly long to will away.

Things were not going well for Sam Winchester.

Things went even worse when he went into the bathroom and realize that his neck and upper shoulders were absolutely _covered_ in hickeys. There was no way he could hide these with a shirt, even a collared shirt. He muttered a curse under his breath as he examined the marks- _they looked like tooth marks, fuck, had they really gotten that rough?_ \- and realized that Dean was sure to notice and ask questions.

Fuck.

Mornings, Sam decided, were terrible, and should be cancelled immediately, to be reinstated upon further notice.

“Morning.”

Sam jumped as Lucifer leaned against the frame of the doorway, his blonde hair tousled. The archangel looked smug, and seemed increasingly pleased with himself as he surveyed the hunter’s body.

“Good luck covering those up.” Lucifer remarked, gesturing towards the marks on Sam’s neck. Sam scowled at him, wishing that the archangel wasn’t quite so perceptive. Castiel’s naivete was annoying, at times, but it certainly had its benefits. 

“Don’t you have something better to do?” Sam asked, a hint of amused bitterness creeping into his tone. He’d be lying if he said that a small, sadistic part of him didn’t enjoy seeing the reminders of the previous night, but Dean was sure to notice, and Sam _really_ didn’t want to get a lecture on sex from his brother.

“No, unfortunately, I have nothing better to do than stare at attractive shirtless men covered in hickeys. It’s a shame, really. A tragedy.” Lucifer sighed dramatically, raising an eyebrow as his gaze tracked over Sam’s torso. Sam felt a flush creeping over his skin, and tried to ignore the embarrassment running through him. He’d basically begged for Lucifer’s dick; it wasn’t like a bit of staring should embarrass him.

The sound of an alarm, followed by muffled swearing, pulled Sam out of his reverie. He blanched, staring at his torso with renewed horror as he realized that he’d forgotten to bring a shirt into the bathroom with him. _Shitshitshitshitshit._ Now he was going to have to walk across the room with his chest fully on display, with plenty of time for Dean to notice the egregious amount of painfully obvious hickeys on Sam’s chest.

Lucifer’s grin widened, his eyes gleaming wickedly. “What a shame,” He drawled, leaning casually against the door. “If only there was some way to get you a shirt.”

Sam glared at the archangel, which only served to make Lucifer’s smug grin widen even more. “Lucifer, I swear, if you can help me and you don’t, I’ll-”

“You’ll what?” Lucifer taunted. “What could you possibly offer me to tempt me into helping you?”

Sam opened his mouth to reply, an angry retort on the tip of his tongue, but then he bit it back, thinking. Lucifer’s eyes danced with amusement at the hunter’s predicament, and an idea popped into Sam’s head. It was a terrible idea, really, but Sam wanted to wipe that damn smug grin off the archangel’s face, and he didn’t care how he did it.

“You remember that idea you had last night, where you were going to have free reign to tease me?” Sam said, his tone carefully casual, as though he’d made an offhand remark about the weather. Lucifer’s eyes gleamed dangerously.

“It sounds familiar, yes.” Lucifer replied, the corner of his mouth curling upwards in amusement. “Why?”

Sam took a deep breath, ignoring the alarm bells going off in his head. Okay, this was a terrible idea, but since when had he been the poster boy for good decisions?

“Get me a shirt, hide these marks from Dean, and you get free reign to tease me while we’re working the case today.”

Lucifer’s grin widened, his growing dark and predatory. “Oh, _Sammy._ ” He purred, stalking forwards with an animalistic sensuality. “Is that really a deal you want to make?”

Sam smirked, reaching out to tip up the archangel’s chin. “Believe me,” He murmured, his breath ghosting over Lucifer’s lips. The hunter pressed his lips against the archangel’s in a brief, rough kiss, his teeth catching on Lucifer’s bottom lip. Sam drew back with a satisfied smirk, noting with pleasure that Lucifer’s eyes had darkened and the angel was breathing slightly harder.

Lucifer’s eyes narrowed, his head tilting to one side. “Very well, Sammy.” 

Oh, yeah, Sam was definitely going to regret making this bet. But right now, with Lucifer’s eyes dark and hungry, with the archangel looking at Sam like he wanted nothing more than to put him over his knee, logical thinking was taking a bit of a backseat in Sam’s mind.

Lucifer lifted his hand, fingertip and thumb a millimeter apart, but Sam grabbed his wrist, stopping the archangel.

“Aren’t deals usually sealed with a kiss?” Sam asked, his hazel eyes wide and innocent. Lucifer stared at him in shock, the archangel’s mouth falling open in disbelief. Sam smiled, an expression far too innocent for what he had just suggested. Lucifer’s eyes narrowed, then he stepped forward, a low snarl emanating from him as he pressed his mouth against the hunter’s. Sam moaned indulgently, melting against Lucifer. The archangel pulled back, eyes blazing, and snapped his fingers.

Sam smirked, fingers rubbing idly against the material of the shirt Lucifer had conjured. “Thanks, Luci.” Sam said, turning to leave the bathroom. He caught sight of the archangel, his eyes dark, teeth bared, and took supreme pleasure in shutting the door on him. 

“Morning, Dean.” Sam called. Dean gave a vague shrug in response, yawning hugely. 

“What’s the plan for today?” Dean asked, his speech slightly slurred by sleep. Sam shrugged, shuffling the newspaper on the table as he forced his train of thought to return to the case. 

“Probably head over to the boyfriend’s house again, see if we can spook him into giving up the dead girl.” Sam said. “We should probably talk to the parents again, too, and see if Amy had a grudge against anyone else.”

Dean made a noise of dissent, shaking his head. “Boyfriend’s the best bet there. Girl’s having problems, she’s not going to tell her parents. Boyfriend’s the one she’ll tell.” 

“Well, we can’t spook him and ask if his girlfriend, who’s come back from the dead, might’ve wanted to kill anyone else.” Sam argued. “Besides, we don’t want him to know that we know she’s back, so how are we supposed to approach that? ‘So, Marcus, planning on killing any of your dead girlfriend’s enemies?’ We’d sound ridiculous.”

Dean scowled, turning to glare at the taller hunter. “Well, if you’ve got any better ideas, I’d love to hear them.”

Sam glared at his brother, but kept his mouth resolutely shut. In truth, he didn’t have many better ideas. Talking to the boyfriend was their best bet, but they didn’t have a solid way of approaching the issue of Amy’s missing body. The parents were out of the question, because Sam couldn’t very well tell them that he and his brother had dug up their child’s grave, and could you please tell us what happened to her body?

Sam sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Fine” He conceded. “But you’re not going alone. I’m coming with you.” Dean started to protest, but Sam cut him off. “Dean, for all we know, he could’ve brought Amy back, or she could be using him to kill people. It’s too dangerous for you to go alone.”

Dean’s scowl deepened, and for a moment, it looked as though he would argue back. Then he seemed to deflate, shoulders slumping slightly. “Fine, Sammy.” He sighed. “But it’d be better to have you talking to locals, scoping out the area for anything suspicious.”

“Lucifer can do that.”

A tense silence fell after Sam spoke, and his eyes widened as he realized what he’d said. Dean’s mouth was set in a hard line, a muscle in his jaw working.

“Lucifer can do that?” Dean repeated incredulously, his voice dangerously low. “ _Lucifer?_ Sam, have you lost your friggin’ mind? Satan is _not_ a hunter, he’s not _Cas_ , he’s not trustworthy! We can’t just let him run loose; we have to be careful, take precautions! Have you forgotten that he’s our prisoner?”

Sam stood there in silence, lost for words. Somewhere along the line, between late-night conversations and flirting in graveyards, he’d forgotten why Lucifer was with them. He was there as a prisoner, he was there because Cas was needed in Heaven, he was there because for some unknown reason, he’d made his way out of the Cage and come to the bunker, to Sam. And now, here he was, with marks from Lucifer’s teeth decorating his torso, making deals with the archangel that were little more than thinly veiled invitations for sex. 

A little voice in the back of Sam’s mind told him that this was a mistake, he was a freak, and he was proving all of Cas and Dean’s suspicions right. Sam swallowed hard, nervously carding his fingers through his hair. No, no, this wasn’t a mistake. He just needed to pull himself together, focus on the case, and then work out his...thing...with Lucifer.

“Sammy? You alright?” 

Dean’s voice pulled him back to the present, the older hunter’s brow furrowed with concern. Sam shook himself, taking a deep, steadying breath.

“Yeah, I’m fine, sorry. Just spaced out a bit.”

Dean frowned, clearly unconvinced, but thankfully didn’t press further. “Well, if you’ve finished spacing out, we’ve got work to do. Take Lucifer and go talk to the locals, find out if Amy or the boyfriend had problems with anyone else. I’ll talk to the boyfriend.”

Sam didn’t miss the way Dean’s voice dripped with contempt when he said Lucifer’s name, but he nodded nevertheless. He was already on thin ice with his brother, and didn’t want to press his luck any further. Sam turned to go, but Dean stopped him.

“Is there anything you’re not telling me, Sam?” 

Sam shook his head, not trusting himself to speak. Dean’s eyes were hard and unfeeling as he studied Sam, searching for any signs of deception. Sam unconsciously held his breath, afraid that even blinking at the wrong time would set off Dean’s suspicion. After a long moment, Dean looked away, satisfied. Sam let out a slow breath of relief, closing his eyes for a brief moment. 

The sun was bright and hot overhead as Sam and Lucifer made their way towards the victim’s house. Sam had been unusually quiet, barely speaking a word to the archangel since they’d left their motel. His silence hadn’t seemed to deter Lucifer, who chatted amiably about anything and everything that came to mind. 

“So, the mission.” Lucifer said cheerfully, nudging Sam hard enough to knock him slightly off-balance. “We’re going to rattle the neighbors, see if anyone else had a bone to pick with the dead girl?” 

“Something like that, yeah.” Sam replied shortly, shrugging slightly. Lucifer pouted, eyes narrowing suspiciously as he glared at Sam. 

“Something wrong, Sammy?”

“No.” Sam said, a little too quickly. Lucifer raised an eyebrow disbelievingly, but kept silent, waiting for Sam to speak. Sam allowed the silence to stretch until it became uncomfortable, then sighed in a resigned sort of way.

“Just something stupid Dean said.” 

“Ah.” Lucifer said, frowning thoughtfully. “Well, if he’s bothering you, I could always have a little chat with him.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “No, Lucifer, you’re not going to threaten Dean. I can deal with him.” Lucifer didn’t look convinced, and started to speak, but Sam cut him off. “You are not to threaten Dean under any circumstances, alright? He’s my brother. If we have an issue, we’ll work it out. Got it?” Lucifer didn’t look happy, but he nodded, his eyes taking on a hint of steel.

They walked in silence for a while, Sam staring resolutely ahead, ignoring the slight glimpses of the archangel he caught from the corner of his eye. Lucifer seemed lost in thought, his ice-blue eyes a thousand miles away as they strode, side-by-side, towards the victim’s house.

The door opened with a whine of protest, making Sam wince as he stepped through the doorway. Light streamed in, illuminating the dust inside, casting ominous shadows around the room. No matter how many hunts Sam went on, he never quite got over the feeling of walking around dead people’s houses. There was something eerie about it, a prickle on the back of his neck that made him feel like he was being watched, a sense of unease bubbling in his gut that told him that he wasn’t welcome.

Sam let out an embarrassingly loud yelp, nearly jumping out of his cheap suit when Lucifer’s hand snaked behind him, giving him a hard slap on the ass. Sam whirled to glare at the archangel, his cheeks flushed bright red with shame and startled anger. 

“Thought I forgot about our little deal, did you, Sammy?” Lucifer purred, his eyes gleaming mischievously. Sam’s mouth fell open, and he stared at the archangel incredulously. 

“Y-you...the deal?” Sam stammered, heat rushing to his cheeks. Shit. In all the stress of his conversation with Dean, he’d forgotten about that deal, and now he was sorely regretting it. “I, uh, shouldn’t we wait for a better time?” He asked, his tone almost pleading. Lucifer grinned, a sharklike expression that highlighted the animalistic hunger in Lucifer’s eyes.

“Oh, no, Sammy.” Lucifer chided, practically purring as he advanced closer to the hunter. “I think now is an _excellent_ time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! I'm sorry for the late update. School has started, and I've got lots of work. I don't know how consistent my updates are going to be from now on, but I'm going to try to update, at the very least, once a month. Once I get used to my workload, it might be more frequent, but I'm not sure. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this update!


	15. Tension

Sam swallowed hard, backing away from the advancing archangel. He made a small noise of surprise when his back hit a wall, then immediately flushed. _Dammit, Sam, pull yourself together._ He chided himself. _He’s not going to hurt you. It’s just some stupid bet._ The hunter cleared his throat, squaring his shoulders. Lucifer’s smile widened, but he stepped back, allowing Sam to move away from the wall.

“We need to look around the living room, see if we can find out how the ghost got in, maybe look for a hex bag.” Sam said, his voice shaking slightly.

“Excellent idea.” Lucifer smirked, shadowing Sam as the hunter moved around the room, stretching to examine the top of the windowsill. Lucifer bent to examine the couch, lifting the cushions absentmindedly. There was nothing, naturally. The archangel didn’t have high hopes for the results of this particular excursion, but at least he had free reign to mess with Sam and didn’t have to worry about Dean interfering with his fun.

Lucifer watched the hunter out of the corner of his eye. Sam was flipping through one of the victim’s old photo albums, his brow furrowed in concentration. Lucifer sighed inwardly. The hunter needed to have some fun, lose some of that picture-perfect control he clung to so desperately. Lucifer’s mouth twitched as his gaze travelled down the hunter’s back. There was power there, that was easy enough to see, even hidden under several layers of flannel. The hunter’s broad back was muscled, strength waiting to be unleashed from the coiled muscles in his forearms. 

Lucifer had an idea.

Granted, it was a terrible idea, and might result in the destruction of potentially valuable evidence, but it wasn’t like this case was unduly important. One measly death in a small town in the middle of nowhere? It wasn’t like anyone actually missed the guy. 

Of course, if he screwed the hunt up, Sam would probably get mad, and Dean sure as hell wasn’t going to react favorably. _Damn._ Curse Sam and his damn code of ethics. Lucifer sighed, going back to flipping over couch cushions. He’d have to find more...minor ways of teasing Sam.

He allowed the hunter a few more minutes of peering at dusty photos before he made his move. Once Sam had let his guard down fully, Lucifer walked behind him and ever-so-casually brushed his front against the hunter’s ass. Sam stiffened immediately, then stood, frozen, waiting for Lucifer to pass by him before relaxing. Lucifer smirked. Oh, this was too easy. The hunter was wound up tighter than a spring, and he could practically taste the tension in the room even though he’d only just started.

Sam frowned as he surveyed the living room. There didn’t appear to be any signs of a break-in, so that ruled out the boyfriend as a suspect. The ghost must’ve done the killing, then, which was pretty typical in their line of work, but unless they found the girl’s body, there wasn’t much they could do to stop it.

Lucifer certainly wasn’t helping.

True, Sam had forgotten about their little bet, and while he didn’t exactly regret making it, he was beginning to doubt how effective his work would be today. The archangel exuded temptation and sin, and Sam had never exactly been good at resisting temptation, particularly when that temptation took the form of a tall, good-looking blonde.

_Focus, Sam._ He chided himself, forcing himself to turn away from Lucifer. He redoubled his efforts, pulling out his EMF reader and walking slowly into the entryway. It let out the occasional beep, but nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary. Dammit. How did the ghost get in and not leave a trail behind? This case was making less sense by the minute.

The EMF reader spiked, and Sam felt a surge of hope. _Finally,_ a breakthrough. He followed the trail to the back door, frowning as it disappeared before the exit. _Maybe not a breakthrough. Damn._

He turned, and let out a surprised yelp as he came nose-to-nose with Lucifer. The archangel’s eyes were dark, his lips curling up in an amused, predatory smile. Sam swallowed hard, moving to the side to step away from Lucifer, but the archangel merely shifted his weight, blocking the hunter’s way. Sam scowled, rolling his eyes.

“Really, Lucifer? When I said you could tease me, I didn’t mean tease in the “mildly irritating” sense.” Sam scoffed, pushing past the archangel. The words had barely left his mouth before he was slammed against the back door, his head colliding against the wood with a solid thunk. Dazed, he started to protest, but the words died in his throat as Lucifer kissed him fiercely, stubble scraping against Sam’s skin. 

Sam let out a high noise of surprise, hands coming around to fist in Lucifer’s hair, in the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer. Lucifer growled possessively in response, one hand tangled in Sam’s hair, the other gripping Sam’s hip hard enough to bruise. Sam pressed against him, hips moving frantically. Lucifer moved his hips infuriatingly slowly, his hands coming down to grip Sam’s hips, forcing him to still. Sam let out a whine of protest, trying to pull Lucifer closer. 

The archangel smirked, stepping away from the hunter, giving Sam space to move away from the wall. Sam stared at him incredulously, a little dazed, panting slightly from their kiss. He opened his mouth, found himself at a loss for words, and closed it again, coloring slightly as Lucifer chuckled. The archangel cocked his head slightly, gaze tracking unabashedly down Sam’s body. His eyes were dark and hungry, but, much to Sam’s disappointment, Lucifer didn’t make any moves to touch him. Sensing Sam’s frustration, Lucifer’s grin widened.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Lucifer said, his voice dripping with false concern. “Was that _mildly irritating_ enough for you?”

Sam stared Lucifer, his mouth falling open in indignant shock. “What--but--you-” Sam stammered, embarrassment slowly replacing his indignance. He really should’ve known better than to try to tease the archangel, because damn, if that was Lucifer trying to prove a point, well, point taken, to say the least. 

“That the best you can do?”

Okay, maybe Sam’s mouth hadn’t gotten the message about not antagonizing the archangel.

Lucifer’s head jerked, his eyes wide with disbelief. Damn, Sam really had a death wish, didn’t he? Fine. He could play that game.

“Sam, I promise you, by the time we’re done here today, you’ll be begging me to fuck you.” Lucifer replied casually, turning away from the hunter as though Sam didn’t deserve another moment of his attention. “Now, if you’re quite finished with this game, we have work to do.” Lucifer bit back a laugh as Sam let out a spluttered noise of protest, followed by a string of curses and mutters of “was doing work” and “stupid distracting Satan.”

Sam turned away from the archangel, letting out a loud, irritated huff. Okay, so maybe he shouldn’t have teased Lucifer. Fine. But he did actually have a case to work on, and extra distractions, though enjoyable, were unnecessary. Dean would kill him if Sam didn’t have anything to show for today, especially after their argument that morning. On top of that, there was a killer ghost on the loose, with no foreseeable way to stop her.

_This case just keeps getting better and better._ Sam thought grimly, crossing over to what appeared to be a basement. He winced as it opened with a creak, revealing a dusty handrail and dilapidated stairs. _Oh, great. A creepy basement. My favorite._ He sighed, grabbing a flashlight off the kitchen counter and shining it down the stairs. It seemed innocent enough, as far as creepy basements went. _Here goes nothing._

Sam descending cautiously into the darkness, the stairs creaking ominously. _Christ, this basement could’ve doubled as the set for a horror movie._ Sam thought as the beam of the flashlight passed over a mess of cobwebs, a large spider reclining in the center. Reaching the bottom of the stairs, he felt around for a light switch. He flipped it on, and made a noise of disgust as a lone light bulb flickered, then died. 

“Of course the light dies.” Sam grumbled, holding the flashlight up to get a better look around. “Why wouldn’t the light die? I’m just in a creepy murder basement, why would there be light? Light would be too easy.”

The basement didn’t reply, which the hunter supposed was a bit of a relief. He began canvassing the room, combing through the boxes that lay scattered at seemingly random intervals. Sam let out a soft curse as he opened the first one. On top lay a dead rat, which Sam picked up by the tail and gingerly set aside. Beneath that was a handful of small bones, then a few dried sprigs of some kind of plant, and beneath those…

“Shit.” Sam said, holding up the old coin, squinting to try to make out the weathered details. _Friggin’ witches._ This case was making less sense by the day. A cursory glance into the other boxes revealed similar content in all of them, making Sam swear again. He frowned, examining the arrangement of the boxes. It almost looked like a star of some kind. A cold feeling settled over the hunter, and he pointed the beam of the flashlight downwards, illuminating the spray-paint on the floor. The light followed the paint, illuminating the massive pentagram. 

Sam judiciously retreated, ascending the stairs rapidly. Screw the bet with Lucifer; they needed to tell Dean about this as soon as possible. Lucifer looked up from the book he’d stolen off the shelf, eyes widening as he saw the look on Sam’s face.

“Not good?” Lucifer asked, tossing the book down and standing to join the hunter.

“Not good.” Sam panted, grabbing Lucifer’s jacket and pulling the archangel out of the house with him. Lucifer stayed quiet, following the hunter obediently out into the bright sunshine of the day. Sam paced restlessly, phone pressed to his ear. 

“Come on, Dean, pick up.” He snarled, throwing the phone down in anger when Dean didn’t answer. Lucifer laid a cautious hand on Sam’s shoulder, and Sam tensed, the muscles in his shoulders bunching as though he was about to throw a punch.

“Sam.” Lucifer said, his voice calm and soothing. Sam took a deep, shuddering breath, and shook himself, forcing some of the tension out of his body. 

“Sorry.” Sam said, rubbing a hand over his face. “There was a pentagram in the basement, with boxes full of witchy things at every point.”

“That’s not good.” Lucifer commented, arching an eyebrow. “So, you think the dead guy brought back the girl, and she got loose and killed him?”

“It’s starting to look that way, yeah.” Sam sighed. “Maybe he was trying to apologize or something? Thought that if he brought her back, apologized, and gave her a day of freedom that it’d be penance?” 

“Religious nutjob.” Lucifer scoffed, voice dripping with contempt.

“You’re an angel.”

“Why, thank you, dear.” Lucifer smirked, batting his eyelashes. Sam scowled, making a face at the archangel. Lucifer’s grin widened, eyes sparkling with amusement. Sam’s scowl deepened, and he turned away, worry creasing his forehead as he frowned at his phone.

“Dean should’ve answered.” Sam murmured, finger tapping the side of his phone nervously.   
Lucifer shrugged nonchalantly. “Maybe his phone is on silent.”  
Sam shook his head. “No, Dean always has his ringtone set as some obnoxiously loud rock song from the 80’s. He could be in trouble.”  
“Or….” Lucifer said, drawing out the word, “He could be interrogating the boyfriend, and not want to answer the phone.”

Sam shook his head vehemently. “No. He’d answer for me. Even if he was in the middle of something, he’d answer the phone. He’d chew me out for it afterwards, but he’d answer.”

“If you say so.”

Something in Lucifer’s tone got under Sam’s skin. The casual nonchalance, the feigned belief, the sympathetic pity. He turned, grabbing fistfuls of the archangel’s canvas jacket and pushing him backwards, slamming Lucifer against the front of the house. Much to Sam’s frustration, Lucifer didn’t look fazed in the slightest, seeming only mildly irritated. Sam shook him, not to hurt him, but to rattle him, surprise him, make him angry, make Lucifer do anything but keep staring at Sam with that sad, knowing look in his eyes that made the hunter feel like an angry little kid throwing a temper tantrum.

The anger went out of Sam, and he sagged against Lucifer, his head dropping onto the archangel’s shoulder. Lucifer was frozen for a moment, then cautious put an arm around the hunter and patted his back in an awkward half-hug. Sam closed his eyes, breathing in the archangel’s scent, using the familiarity of it to calm himself down. Lucifer relaxed, his posture growing more open, and Sam nuzzled closer, hesitantly hugging Lucifer closer to his body, the heat of the archangel’s body warming him.

They stayed like that for a long moment, holding each other, not saying anything. Eventually, Sam pulled back, Lucifer reluctantly letting him go. Wordlessly, they began walking back to the motel, Sam taking out his phone to call Dean again. Lucifer could tell by Sam’s disappointed sigh that Dean hadn’t picked up, and reached out to take the hunter’s hand, giving it a short, reassuring squeeze. Sam jumped slightly, but threaded his fingers through the archangel’s, the worry creasing his forehead smoothing out as Lucifer traced a fingertip along the back of Sam’s hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I intended for this chapter to be more sexual, but then the plot happened and the characters insisted on being emotional. Alas, I do whatever my muses bid, and here they bade for plot. Hopefully you enjoyed it!
> 
> Also, yes, updates are still a little inconsistent, and I'm really sorry about that. I'm trying to figure out a good writing schedule, so please bear with me while I figure that out. I'm going to try to update once a week, but I'm not sure what day exactly those updates will end up being on.


	16. Choices

Sam paced around the motel room, phone pressed against his ear. Dean still hadn’t contacted him, and hadn’t replied to Sam’s texts or calls. The younger hunter was starting to get seriously worried now. Lucifer didn’t quite share Sam’s concerns, but was staying quiet out of respect for the hunter.

“He should’ve answered.” Sam said, staring at his phone, brow furrowed in concern. Lucifer sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“You’ve been saying that for the last hour, Sammy.” Lucifer said gently, watching the hunter pace. He wasn’t going to pretend that he was particularly worried about Dean, but it upset him to see Sam so worried. 

“Yeah, well, he hasn’t been answering for the last hour.” Sam snapped, rounding on the archangel. “Can’t you find him with your angel-powers or something?”

“I would if I could, Sammy, but I’m bound, remember?” Lucifer said, holding up his hands to show Sam the cuffs on his wrists. Sam groaned. He’d forgotten about the cuffs. 

“You’ve been making them disappear. Can’t you make that more...permanent?” Sam asked desperately. Lucifer shook his head.  
“Unfortunately, no. The cuffs may not be present, but the binding still exists. Unless you wanted to uncuff me, I wouldn’t be able to have full use control of my powers.”

Sam paused, staring at the archangel. Lucifer kept his posture as relaxed as possible, but his thoughts were racing. Was Sam actually considering letting him go? Granted, it wasn’t like Lucifer was going to hurt Sam or anything, and Lucifer did want to be set free, but setting him free would be an exceptionally poor decision, even by Sam’s low standards. 

“Fine.”

“Really?” Lucifer asked incredulously, raising an eyebrow. “I mean, I’m not complaining, but-”

“Shut up, Luci.” Sam snapped, cutting him off. “Dean’s in trouble, I can feel it. You’re gonna help me save him, or I swear to god, I’ll throw you in the Cage for the rest of eternity.”

“Well, you don’t have to be rude.” Lucifer said, frowning. “I would’ve helped if you asked nicely.” Sam ignored him, opening up his laptop and pulling up a file. Lucifer squinted at the screen, trying to make out the words, but Sam’s broad shoulders blocked his view. Curse that hunter and his damn musculature. 

A few moments later, Sam stood, closing the lid of his laptop. He walked over to the archangel and took Lucifer’s hands in his. Lucifer obligingly allowed the cuffs to reappear and sat patiently, waiting for the hunter to remove them. Sam touched the cuffs gingerly, rubbing a finger over the keyhole. 

“Alright, to remove the cuffs, I’ll need to fill the keyhole with blood.” Sam said casually. Lucifer raised an eyebrow, surprised at the hunter’s nonchalance.

“Oh, is that all?” Lucifer said dryly. Sam made a face at him, then stood, grabbing a knife from off the table. He was about to cut into his palm when Lucifer stopped him.  
“Sam, do you know how much blood it takes to fill a tiny keyhole? Barely any. Cut the macho crap and prick your finger like a normal human being.”

“Why, Luci, I didn’t know you cared.” Sam deadpanned, but he obeyed, pricking the tip of his finger and pressing it to the keyhole. Power flowed into the archangel as the cuffs opened, leaving him slightly light-headed. Lucifer closed his eyes for a long moment, savoring the feeling of freedom. It’d been far too long since he’d been able to stretch his wings.

“Okay?” Sam asked hesitantly. Lucifer nodded, a little dreamily. He opened his eyes, and immediately noticed that the hunter was standing a few steps away from him. Lucifer cocked his head to the side, appraising the hunter.

“Now, Sammy, don’t do anything stupid.” Lucifer said, his tone holding a note of warning. Sam swallowed, but didn’t relax. Lucifer rolled his eyes. “Relax, Sammy. You did this for Dean. He’ll understand, right?” He smirked and stood, rolling his shoulders. Sam took a wary step back, and Lucifer groaned inwardly. They didn’t have time for this. Sam was worried about Dean, and Lucifer was more than willing to help if it meant flying. Before the hunter could protest, Lucifer grabbed his hand and they vanished, Sam’s startled yelp of surprise the only thing remaining in the motel.

Sam’s feet reconnected with the ground with a jarring _whumph_ , knocking him off-balance. He staggered, the earth rushing up to meet him with alarming speed, before a strong hand gripped him and pulled him back upright. Sam all but collapsed into the archangel, his head spinning as he clung to Lucifer for support.

“You alright there, Sammy?” Lucifer asked, grinning widely. Sam nodded, blinking rapidly a few times to clear the spots in his vision.

“Yeah, I’m alright. It’s been awhile since I’ve zapped anywhere.” Sam said, straightening. He looked around, frowning. “Where are we?”

“Somewhere outside town, I think.” Lucifer said, shrugging. “I tracked Dean that barn there, so he’s probably inside there somewhere.” Sam looked around for the barn, and couldn’t repress a snort upon seeing it.

“Wow, a creepy, abandoned barn. That’ll go perfectly with the creepy basement.” 

Lucifer raised an eyebrow. “You hunt monsters for a living, Sam. I don’t think you can complain about anything being creepy.”

Sam made a face at the archangel, then started heading towards the barn. Lucifer followed a few steps behind him, still glowing from the flight. It’d been so long since he’d flown; he’d almost forgotten what it was like. It was _wonderful_ , and he was determined to enjoy it while it lasted. Once they rescued Dean from whatever trouble he’d gotten himself into, the older hunter was bound to demand that Lucifer be locked up again, and would probably yell at Sam to boot.

Speaking of Sam…

Lucifer frowned slightly as he watched the hunter move. Sam was surprisingly graceful for a man his size, and managed to not stumble over the uneven terrain or step on too many fallen branches. Sam was a mystery. He’d gone from threatening to kill Lucifer to getting fucked by the archangel in a shitty motel bathroom. And now he’d set Lucifer free. Granted, this was likely a temporary measure, done only to help Dean, but still. Lucifer hadn’t even had to threaten to pluck out his eyeballs or anything to get Sam to remove the cuffs.

“Alright, I’m going in first.” Sam hissed, starting to stand. Lucifer grabbed his wrist, yanking him down. Sam fell back in disgruntled heap, glaring at Lucifer. He opened his mouth to protest, but the archangel cut him off.

“Are you stupid, or do you have a death wish?” Lucifer snarled. “You’re human. All it takes in one jackass with a gun, and you’re dead. Let me go first. I’m an archangel.”

“If I get shot, you can heal me.” Sam retorted. “And that’s a pretty big _if_. More than likely, the boyfriend’s in there, panicking. If you go in, all “blaze of righteous glory and death”, he’s going to freak out, and Dean’s gonna get hurt.”

“I don’t care about Dean, Sam, I care about you!”

Silence.

A muscle in Sam’s jaw worked, the hunter seemingly torn between punching Lucifer and hitting him. The archangel stayed very still, hardly daring to breathe. Sam’s eyes were dark, his expression inscrutable as he glared at the archangel. Lucifer started to lean forward at the exact moment Sam turned away, but if the hunter noticed, he gave no indication. Lucifer rocked back on his heels, judiciously putting his hands in his pockets so that he wouldn’t be tempted to reach out for the hunter.

“We’re here for Dean, not me.” Sam said, a quiet thrum of anger underlying his words. “I’m going in first. If I get hurt, heal me.” Lucifer nodded silently, following the hunter towards the barn.

The lock on the barn door had been broken, and a discarded crowbar thrown haphazardly into the bushes showed the preferred method of break-in. Lucifer grabbed the crowbar as an afterthought. It’d be nice to have a human weapon so that he didn’t unnecessarily alarm anyone. Sam continued circling the building, trying to gain a vantage point to see inside the building. Unfortunately, the windows were either too high or covered in grime, preventing the hunter from getting a clear view.

“Dammit.” Sam cursed, viciously kicking a patch of weeds in frustration. Lucifer winced, grabbing the hunter’s shoulders in a tight grip. Sam tried to break out of the archangel’s grip, but Lucifer stubbornly held on. 

“Listen to me, Sam.” Lucifer said soothingly. “I know you want to burst in there, guns blazing, and save your big brother. But you can’t. Let me go in first, take out the kid, and then you can get Dean.” Sam’s scowl deepened, and he pushed Lucifer aside roughly. The archangel stumbled, his bright eyes clouded with anger and confusion, and in that brief moment, Sam realized exactly why setting Lucifer free might have been a mistake.

Lucifer got to his feet, brushing the dirt off of his worn jeans. He tugged on his olive jacket, straightening it, and regarded Sam dispassionately.  
“Are you done?” Lucifer asked coldly. Sam swallowed nervously, nodding. “Good.” Lucifer spat, turning away from the hunter. “Now, if you want to save Dean, I suggest you _listen to me_ , and if that’s too difficult for you, then I’m more than happy to sit back and leave him to rot in there.”

Sam glared suspiciously at the archangel. He wanted to trust Lucifer, but every instinct that he’d been honing since childhood screamed at him to _not_ trust the archangel. Hell, if Dean was here now, he’d be calling Sam crazy for even thinking of trusting Lucifer. Then again, Sam had already set the archangel free, so he might as well use Lucifer, right?

“Okay, fine.” Sam said reluctantly. “But don’t kill anyone, okay? We’re here for Dean, and we still have a case to solve.” Lucifer nodded, then vanished. Sam waited, fingers tapping a staccato beat on his thigh. A minute passed, and there still weren’t any sounds from within the barn, nor was there any sign of Lucifer.

Just as Sam was beginning to worry that Lucifer had bailed, a hair-raising scream came from within the barn. _Shit._ Throwing caution to the wind, Sam threw his weight against the barn doors. The wood gave out with a splintering crack, and he stumbled into the barn, gun raised. 

“Sammy!” 

“Dean!”

Sam ran to his brother, who was tied to a chair in the middle of the barn. He tried to grab the ropes, to untangle them, but Dean jerked away.

“You set Satan free?!” Dean shouted, staring at Sam like he’d lost his mind. Sam flinched, stepping away from his brother.

“Dean, I didn’t have a choice. I didn’t know where you were.” Sam said plaintively. “You didn’t answer my-”

“No!” Dean cried, cutting him off. “Sam, you absolutely had a choice! How many times have one of us gotten captured? We always made do. You did _not_ need to cut Satan loose!”

Something inside Sam broke. Maybe it was the stress of the hunt, maybe it was pent-up emotion from worrying about Dean, maybe Lucifer was getting to him. He straightened, regarding Dean coldly. 

“If you’d prefer to stay tied to a chair, I’m sure that could be arranged.” Sam snapped. “But if you want to be up and about, and not tied to a chair, I’d suggest that you don’t shit on my methods before you’re even able to walk.”

Dean’s mouth fell open in shock, but he stayed quiet. Sam pulled out his knife, sawing away at the ropes. He looked around, and couldn’t help his sharp intake of breath when he caught sight of Lucifer. 

The archangel was leaning against a wooden beam, the dead girl’s boyfriend--Marcus, that was his name--in a crumpled heap at his feet. Sam let out a sigh of relief when he saw the telltale movement of Marcus’ chest that meant that he was breathing. For a moment, he’d been afraid that Lucifer had actually killed the poor kid.

Luckily for their case, Lucifer hadn’t killed the kid, but his eyes were dark with _something_ that sent a shiver down Sam’s spine. The hunter cleared his throat, returning his attention to the ropes binding Dean. He redoubled his efforts, the ropes falling away as he sawed at them. Dean stood and stalked over to Lucifer before Sam could stop him.

“As soon as we get back to the motel, you’re going right back into those cuffs.” Dean hissed, jabbing his finger at the archangel. Lucifer raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. 

“Really, Dean, is that any way to thank me? I just saved your life.”

“You didn’t save shit.” Dean snapped. “You’re only here because you made some deal with Sam. What was it, huh? Your freedom in exchange for helping him? Well, it’s not gonna last.”

“Dean, stop.” Sam said quietly. 

Dean rounded on the younger hunter, his eyes wide with disbelief. “Sam, what’s gotten into you? This is _Lucifer_ we’re talking about. Lucifer, Satan, the guy who drove you insane a couple years ago, and you’re defending him?”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Yeah, and we’re friends with Crowley now too. Do me a favor, Dean, and shut up. You can yell at me all you want once we’re done with this case, but until then, shut the hell up about Lucifer. How’s that for a deal?”

“Fine,” Dean spat. “But when we get back to the bunker, you and me are gonna have a talk.”

“Okay.” Sam said, shrugging. At this point, he’d be willing to do almost anything to get Dean to shut up. He couldn’t blame Dean too much, though, because this was the Devil they were talking about. Still, he’d be damned if he had to listen to one more minute of Dean’s bitching about Lucifer.

“Well, that was fun.” Lucifer said brightly, clapping. “Now, shall I zap us all back to the motel, or would you rather take the moral high road and walk? It’d be slower, but the righteous satisfaction is lovely.” 

“That’d be great, Luci.” Sam said quickly, cutting off the inevitable angry comment from Dean. Lucifer smiled obligingly, heaving Marcus over his shoulder and grabbing the hunters. They vanished, leaving only a crowbar and a pile of rope behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a bit of a pet peeve of mine when people cut their hands for blood. I won't claim to have any medical knowledge, but I can't imagine that pricking your fingertip wouldn't work just as well. Oh, well. 
> 
> Hopefully you enjoyed this chapter! It's a bit more from Lucifer's perspective, but I think it turned out okay.


	17. *Crowley voice* Feelings

As soon as they arrived back in the motel, Dean grabbed Sam’s arm and pulled him aside. Lucifer wisely stayed quiet, instead busying himself with tying Marcus to a chair.

“Look, Sammy, I’m not gonna get into this now.” Dean said, his voice for once devoid of anger. “But if there’s something you need to tell me about what’s been going on between you and Satan, now would be a great time to do it.” 

“There’s nothing to say.” Sam said, keeping his voice neutral. Dean sighed, clearly reluctant to let it go.   
“Sam, please.” Dean said quietly. “I care about you. If there’s something going on, tell me.”

Sam shrugged, throwing caution to the wind. “Okay. I slept with Lucifer. It was great and I fully intend to do it again.” Dean’s mouth dropped open, his expression changing from concern to shock to anger faster than a stoplight. Sam couldn’t resist smirking, even though part of him knew that that was probably incredibly stupid. 

“Now, can we get back to the case, please?” Not waiting for Dean to reply, Sam strode over to where Lucifer had Marcus tied to a chair. He leaned down, and Marcus shrank away from him in fear. Good. Sam wasn’t sure what Lucifer had done to the kid in the barn, but maybe if he was scared, he’d be more willing to talk.

“Marcus, do you have any idea where your girlfriend might be?” Sam asked politely.

“N-no, man. My girlfriend’s dead.” Marcus stammered, his gaze darting between Sam and Lucifer. Okay. Guess the kid wasn’t in a cooperative mood.

Sam sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Cut the crap, kid. We know she killed Mr. Small. Her body wasn’t in her grave, so presumably she’s still running around somewhere. Where is she?”

Marcus went very pale, his jaw hanging low enough to catch flies. “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about, man. I don’t know what killed that guy, but it wasn’t me. It wasn’t Amy, either. She’s dead.”

Sam sighed, exchanging a glance with Lucifer. The archangel nodded, then stepped forward, grabbing Marcus’ hair and yanking his head back sharply. Marcus let out a shout of pain, tears springing to his eyes. Dean watched silently, making no move to help the boy.

“Perhaps you didn’t hear the question.” Lucifer hissed, his voice dangerously low. “Now, I’m not a generous man, but Sam here is inclined to give you the benefit of the doubt. So,” He squatted down so that his breath was hot against Marcus’ cheek, making the boy shudder. “Where is she?”

“In-in the basement of my house.” Marcus cried. “She just showed up, man, I didn’t have anything to do with it. I was in my room, and she showed up talking about how this was our second chance and I couldn’t tell anyone, and I-I freaked out, okay! I told her she couldn’t leave the basement, but I think-” He broke off, swallowing hard. “I think she knows that I don’t think this is right.”

“Well, this is your lucky day, Marcus!” Lucifer said cheerfully, slapping him on the back. “Sam and Dean solve problems like this all the time, and I’m sure they’d be more than willing to help.” Marcus looked up at the hunters, his eyes wide.

“You’d-you don’t think I’m crazy?”

“Not a bit.” Sam reassured him. “Now, how do we get into your basement?”

\----------------------------------------------------------------------

“Just for the record, I think this is a terrible idea.”

“Yes, Dean, you’ve mentioned that.” Sam said absentmindedly, pushing open the basement door. Thankfully, unlike the last basement he was in, the lights worked, and it led into a relatively normal storage space. He pocketed his flashlight, leading the way down with his gun half-raised. Dean followed behind, with Lucifer bringing up the rear. The archangel didn’t seem particularly worried; rather, he watched the hunter’s movements with keen interest, the way people watch animals in zoos. The likeliness sent a chill down Sam’s spine, but he shook it off, forcing himself to think about the mission instead.

He looked around the room, warily lowering his gun. “Clear.” He called, and Dean dropped his gun with a sigh. “Maybe Marcus was lying?” Sam suggested halfheartedly. 

“I doubt it.” Dean replied. “He seemed pretty scared. Maybe the bitch only comes out at night.”

The moment the words left his mouth, Dean flew across the room, colliding painfully with the wall. Sam whipped around, his gun raised, but it was ripped from his hands almost instantly. He barely managed to remove his finger from the trigger in time, avoiding it being dislocated by little more than a blink. He adopted a defensive stance, fists raised. There was a moment of stillness, then _something_ cracked him hard across the face, sending him reeling. 

_Shit_ , that hurt. His head was ringing, and when he raised a hand to tentatively brush against his jaw, Sam couldn’t hold back the hiss of pain that escaped him. A form materialized in front of him, but his vision was blurring, spots dancing in front of his eyes, blackness creeping in from the corners. Dimly, he recognized the form as Amy from the autopsy photo, but she didn’t look quite as angry in that picture as she did now. Her features were contorted with rage, pale skin pulled tight over her skull, giving her a drawn appearance. 

She ignored Sam, moving instead towards Dean. Sam protested weakly, sitting up, making the throbbing in his head worse. He stood unsteadily, and, without so much as sparing him a glance, Amy flicked her hand in a dismissive sort of gesture and Sam was knocked to the floor. When he tried to sit up, to move, anything, the pressure on his chest tightened, and within moments Sam was beginning to feel dizzy from lack of oxygen. He watched helplessly as Amy stood over Dean, her hand raised, head cocked to one side as she regarded the hunter’s limp form.

Lucifer appeared behind Amy, radiating fury so intensely that it was almost tangible. Sam couldn’t hold back a surprised gasp, and Amy turned, her brow wrinkling in confusion. She started towards him, but then stopped, taking a slight step back when she saw Lucifer. The archangel’s outward appearance was calm, but his eyes were bright with anger. Amy tried to push him the same way she had Dean, but Lucifer stood stock-still, unruffled by her efforts. Frustrated, she hit him, the force of the hit making a sharp _crack_ , but she might as well have not touched the archangel at all.

Lucifer smiled, an expression that didn’t quite reach his eyes, which stayed cold and hard. He reached out, one of his hands passing through the ghost’s body. Her eyes widened in confusion, then her mouth opened in a silent scream of pain as blue light began emanating from Lucifer’s fist, spreading through her body. Sam watched, transfixed, as a spiderweb of light canvassed her form, until it became so bright that he had to look away. He felt, rather than saw, the energy coming from the archangel, and was once again reminded of just how powerful Lucifer was. Sure, Castiel could do some pretty incredible things, but Lucifer was in a league of his own.

Silence fell, and Sam stayed frozen on the floor, shoulders tensed as though waiting for an attack. After a moment, he relaxed, looking around warily. The ghost was gone, and Lucifer was peering curiously down at Dean, his head cocked to one side. 

“Is she...gone? Like, for good?” Sam asked, getting up to stand by Lucifer’s side. He leaned unabashedly against the archangel for support, grateful for the steadying arm that Lucifer put around his shoulders. 

“Should be.” Lucifer answered, nudging Dean with his foot. The hunter groaned, stirring slightly, but didn’t wake. “You should burn whatever’s tying her here, just in case, but I don’t think she’ll be bothering anyone else for a while.” Sam nodded, turning his head so that he could kiss Lucifer’s cheek.

“Thanks for saving me, Luci.” He said, grinning.

“My pleasure.” Lucifer replied. He nudged Dean again, using his foot to roll the hunter onto his back. “Should we wake him up?” Lucifer asked, frowning slightly.   
“Mmm, I don’t think so.” Sam purred, nuzzling Lucifer’s neck. The archangel raised an eyebrow, surprised.  
“Really? And why is that?” He asked, his voice carefully even.

“Because as great as it was to be fucked against a wall, my knees are killing me, and I’d really prefer a bed this time around.”

Lucifer laughed, the sound refreshingly honest. “Oh, Sammy, you never cease to amaze me.” Lucifer said, his tone rich with amusement. 

“I’m sure there are plenty of ways I could amaze you.” Sam said, winking. Lucifer groaned, shaking his head.  
“If you use one more cliche line, I’m going to vaporize you.”  
Sam pouted, but agreed nonetheless. “Okay, fine. Cliche lines aside, it’d be nice to not have to deal with Dean for a little bit longer. I’m pretty sure he’s going to yell at me for sleeping with you, and I’m tired and my head hurts and I don’t feel like dealing with that right now.”

“Plus, this way, we get to be alone.” Lucifer added helpfully, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. 

“Yeah, that too.” Sam agreed, his hand travelling down Lucifer’s back to rest just above the archangel’s jeans. Lucifer didn’t react to the movement, instead bending down to pick up Dean, slinging the unconscious hunter over his shoulders. He gallantly offered his arm to Sam, which the hunter took with a roll of his eyes. 

In a flash of movement, they were back in the motel room. Sam groaned, and would’ve fallen over were it not for his grip on Lucifer’s arm. Lucifer deposited Dean onto one of the beds in an undignified heap, then wrapped his arms securely around Sam, holding him until the dizziness passed. 

Sam allowed himself to stay in Lucifer’s arms for longer than he should have before reluctantly pulling away. He wasn’t quite sure how to feel about the archangel. Part of him was still reluctant to trust Lucifer, too many bad memories resurfacing every times he tried to let his guard down. But the rest of him wanted so badly to trust the archangel that it was a physical ache in his chest. Dean had had Cas for years, and for years, Sam had been the third wheel, the odd one out, the one who wasn’t quite good enough to be trusted. And now…

“Penny for your thoughts?” Lucifer asked quietly, watching the hunter carefully. Sam let out a small laugh, shaking his head.

“It’s nothing, really. Stupid stuff.” He said, shrugging. “More of me having issues, I guess.”

“Sam, I _invented_ daddy issues.” Lucifer said, smirking. “And I’m no stranger to overbearing older brothers.” Sam laughed, settling down on the unoccupied bed. Lucifer settled next to him, lounging back on his elbows. “So, care to elaborate on your issues? Promise I won’t tease you.” Sam looked at him doubtfully, and Lucifer drew back, putting a hand over his hand in a mockingly wounded gesture. “Scout’s honor, Sammy.”

Sam laughed, mirroring Lucifer’s pose on the bed. “Well, since you’re so trustworthy and honest, I guess I could tell you.” Sam teased. He fell silent for a long moment, studying Lucifer’s face. Lucifer let him, didn’t push Sam into speaking, didn’t ask why he was staring. They stayed like that for a while, silently watching each other, their breathing slowly falling into sync. Eventually, Sam let out a long sigh, and started to speak.

“When Jess died, I thought that was it for me. I thought she was the last person I’d ever love, the last person who’d ever love me, and I know it’s stupid. I know people go through that every time they break up with their boyfriend or girlfriend, but to have Jess die like that, to know that it was because of hunting, and that it ended up being because of me...it was hard to justify getting up in the morning. I left Dean so many times, I ran away over and over, but I always came back. When he went to purgatory, I didn’t even _look_ for him. I got a girlfriend and a dog and I was _normal_ , but even that didn’t end well. And Dean...Dean has Cas. He’s a moron and he’ll never pull his head out of his ass and realize that they’re meant for each other, but they still have each other. Hell, even in those stupid books Chuck wrote about us, you can tell Dean and Cas love each other. And what do I do? Mess everything up, be a terrible brother, abandon Dean at every opportunity. I’ve tried to make up for it, I’ve tried so many times to not be that person, but the chance to leave comes up and I-I take it. And now I’ve got you, but even this isn’t going to last. We’ll go back to the bunker and Dean and Cas will want to put you back in the Cage, and I’ll have to help because if I don’t, then I’m a monster and a freak and I’m sick of being that. I’m sick of them looking at me like everything I do is wrong but here I am, pouring my soul out to the Devil. And even you won’t be permanent. You’ll go back to the Cage, I’ll die at some point, probably sooner rather than later, and you’ll forget I ever existed.”

Sam turned away from Lucifer as soon as he finished speaking, not wanting to look at the archangel, not wanting Lucifer to see the tears brightening his eyes. It was stupid, he was stupid for all of this self-flagellating bullshit, but he couldn’t help it. Blame his daddy issues, blame his overbearing older brother, blame himself for being so damn sensitive. 

“Sam, look at me.” Lucifer’s voice was soft, caring, and the exact last thing Sam needed right now. He didn’t want Lucifer’s pity.

“Sam, do you honestly think that’s how this would go?”

“Yes!” Sam shouted, voice thick with tears. “How else would it go?!”

“Well, I’d go back to the bunker with you, help you lock Dean and Cas in a room mysteriously stocked with flavoured lube, and then spend a lot of time merrily distracting you from whatever productive things you’d need to do.”

Sam laughed in spite of himself, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. “Sorry.” He mumbled thickly. “You probably think I’m stupid and pathetic, falling apart like this.”

“I would never, Sam.” Lucifer said, wrapping an arm around the hunter’s waist, pulling him close. “Obviously everything isn’t going to be sunshine and rainbows, but we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it. Besides,” He added. “I could always vaporize Dean, or grab you and fly out of there.”

“No vaporizing Dean.” Sam said sternly. “I’m not against being flown around the world, though. As long as we don’t stay in shitty motels.”

Lucifer’s eyes gleamed, and he pressed a kiss to the back of Sam’s neck. “Oh, no, nothing but the best for my Sammy.” He purred, pressing closer to the hunter. Sam made a small noise of approval, turning so that he was facing Lucifer, so close that they were almost nose-to-nose.

“How would you pull me away from my research?” Sam asked, his tone almost challenging. Lucifer huffed out a laugh, pressing kisses along the hunter’s jaw.

“I’m sure I could find some way, Sammy.”

“Oh, really?” Sam said, raising an eyebrow definiantly. “Somehow I doubt that.”

Lucifer’s eyes flashed with something dark and hungry, and he caught Sam’s chin in an almost painful grip. “Care to bet on that, Sammy? I seem to recall making you beg last time.”

“You got lucky.” Sam said, grinning. He was winding Lucifer up, and they both knew it was an act. But damn if Sam wasn’t going to have fun with it.

“Luck?” Lucifer repeated incredulously. “There was nothing lucky about that, Sam.”

“Prove it.” Sam said, a shit-eating grin plastered across his face. Lucifer’s eyes darkened. Sam really wanted it bad, didn’t he?

“Fine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was probably the angstiest speech I've ever written and I'm kinda proud of that. Angst and feelings all around. Also, the first time I've written a "fight", even though this one was mostly a ghost punching people. Still, a banner chapter all around. Hopefully you enjoyed it!


	18. Close

Sam kissed Lucifer gently, carding his fingers through the archangel’s hair. Lucifer let out an approving purr, pulling Sam closer. Sam couldn’t help smiling, breaking the kiss to nuzzle at Lucifer’s neck. The archangel let him, bringing a hand up to tangle in Sam’s long hair. Sam let out a long breath, relaxing against Lucifer, his face heating up as Lucifer pressed a kiss onto his forehead.

“Never pegged you as a cuddler.” Sam murmured, his lips almost touching Lucifer’s skin. The archangel laughed softly, shrugging.  
“I haven’t had much reason to before.” Lucifer replied, his hand on Sam’s back sending a warm glow through the hunter. Sam pressed closer, wanting more of that heat. Lucifer was always cold, maybe because Nick was gone, but Sam didn’t care about that anymore. Lucifer was cold and Sam wanted to warm him up.

“I can’t say I’m opposed to this, but I must confess I don’t understand your reasoning behind this.” Lucifer remarked as Sam dragged the covers over them. 

“You’re cold.” Sam said, running a hand down the angel’s front. “You’re always cold, and I want you to be warm.”

Lucifer’s eyes flashed with amusement. “Oh, Sammy.” He said, his voice full of warmth. “You never cease to amaze me.”

“Shut up.” Sam grumbled, nuzzling closer to the archangel. Lucifer obligingly shut up, and they lay there in comfortable silence, holding each other and ignoring the world around them.

Sam angled his head down to press a soft kiss onto Lucifer’s mouth. Lucifer’s lips twitched upwards in a flash of a grin, and he leaned into the kiss. He didn’t press for more, didn’t try to deepen the kiss, and Sam couldn’t help appreciating that. It was nice to be able to kiss Lucifer, to actually, properly kiss the archangel, without the heated desperation of lust and need clouding his mind. 

Lucifer was a surprisingly good kisser.

Sam hadn’t really appreciated it the first time around, when he’d been more focused on getting Lucifer’s dick inside of him, but now, he was pleasantly surprised to discover that the archangel was pretty damn good at kissing. His stubble occasionally scraped against the hunter’s skin, but the sensation wasn’t unpleasant. Lucifer seemed to instinctively know what Sam wanted, and never pressed for more. It was such a departure from the aggressive, demanding Lucifer of before that it made Sam’s head spin, and he found himself out of breath embarrassingly quickly.

“You okay, Sammy?” Lucifer asked, his voice soft. The sound of his mouth was quirked upwards in a slight smile, his usually cold blue eyes full of warmth. Sam laughed, nodding.  
“Yeah, I’m okay, Luci.” Sam leaned forward, trying to kiss Lucifer again, but the archangel stopped him.

“We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to, Sammy.” Lucifer said, his gaze searching. Sam laughed, louder this time.  
“Luci, believe me, if I want you to stop, I’ll let you know. I can always cuff you again.”

“That a promise?” Lucifer asked, his eyes gleaming mischievously. 

“Yeah, okay.” Sam said, turning so that he was on top of the archangel. Lucifer smirked up at him, his hands coming up to rest on the hunter’s waist. Sam leaned down to kiss him, harder this time, more insistent. Lucifer kissed him lazily, ignoring the faster pace that Sam was trying to set. Sam made a small noise of frustration and moved his hips experimentally. Lucifer hissed, and Sam smirked, repeating the motion. Lucifer frowned, and pulled away from the kiss.

“You trying to start something, Sammy?” He asked, his voice taking on a slow drawl. Sam shrugged innocently, leaning down to press kisses onto Lucifer’s neck.

“I don’t know.” He said, pulling back. He grinned widely at Lucifer’s expression, a mixture of doubt and amusement. “Okay, fine.” Sam relented. “You are a good kisser and I want to enjoy our time together while Dean is asleep and we have this wonderful bed.”

Lucifer snorted. “This bed is terrible, Sammy. When this case is over, I’ll take you all over the world, and we’ll stay in the best hotels. Beds so soft you feel like you’re sleeping on clouds, plenty of sunshine and no laptops within a ten-mile radius. Nothing but the best for you.”

Sam laughed, ducking his head. He wanted that, god, he wanted that. The fondness in Lucifer’s voice killed him, but Sam wouldn’t ruin this moment for anything in the world. He had Lucifer, a bed, and no overbearing older brother was going to harass him for his life choices, and Sam fully intended to take advantage of that. Sam leaned down to kiss the angel again, ignoring the negative thoughts that buzzed at the back of his mind. He was going to enjoy this, dammit.

Lucifer allowed Sam to set the pace, not pushing the hunter’s boundaries. He knew, as much as Sam tried to hide it, that the hunter was in a vulnerable state, and Lucifer wasn’t going to play with that. He was the Devil, sure, evil was kinda his thing, but not with Sam, not now. Lucifer would be happy to push the hunter’s boundaries and see how much he could take at a later date, but for now, he’d be content with slow kisses and Sam’s chest pressed against his, warming him to the core.

Sam, on the other hand, was growing less content with the slow pace.

Kissing the archangel was great, hell, maybe even fantastic. But he’d basically just poured his soul out to the Devil, and he didn’t want Lucifer to treat him like he was going to break. He wasn’t going to break, and he certainly wasn’t going to stop the archangel if Lucifer tried to manhandle him. 

Still, there was a small part of Sam that said no, a part that begged Sam to lay next to the archangel and fall asleep in Lucifer’s arms.

Another day, perhaps.

Back in the present, Sam let out a muffled noise of frustration, tugging insistently on Lucifer’s canvas jacket. Lucifer got the hint, and sat up so that he could remove the jacket, the movement shifting Sam so that he was squarely in the archangel’s lap. Lucifer purred approvingly, wrapping his arms around the hunter’s waist and back and pulling him closer. Sam kissed him fiercely, beginning to move his hips in a steady rhythm. 

Lucifer moving a hand to cup the hunter’s ass, squeezing it gently. Sam shuddered, grinding his hips down harder, more insistently, trying to provoke a reaction out of the archangel. Lucifer, the bastard, stayed firmly in control, ignoring Sam’s efforts to break his self-control. Sam let out a high, needy noise, and leaned down to kiss the archangel’s neck, sucking hard at a sensitive spot. Lucifer gasped and hissed through his teeth, the unexpected flash of pain sending a jolt of heat to his groin. Sam wanted to play dirty, huh? Well, two could play that game.

Lucifer fisted a hand in the hunter’s hair, pulling back sharply. Sam’s head jerked back, his mouth coming off Lucifer’s neck with an obscene _pop_. He stared at the archangel, pupils blown, eyes glassy with lust. Lucifer pulled again, and a throaty moan ripped its way out of Sam’s mouth, his hips jerking forward in response. Lucifer smirked, using the hand in Sam’s hair to keep his head back so that Lucifer could kiss and bite his throat. Sam moaned, his hands clawing at the archangel’s shirt, but Lucifer ignored him. 

Sam made a noise of irritation, pushing Lucifer off him briefly so that he could take off his shirt. Lucifer’s gaze unabashedly tracked over Sam’s skin, lips twitched upwards in a smirk. Sam flushed slightly, taking advantage of Lucifer’s lack of focus to pull the archangel’s shirt up. Lucifer relented, allowing Sam to throw his shirt into a corner of the room. Immediately, Sam leaned forward, frantically pressing kisses onto Lucifer’s skin. The archangel hissed, a hand tangling in Sam’s hair. He pulled it, not hard enough to make Sam’s head snap back, but enough so that the hunter let out a whine, hips bucking forward helplessly.

Sam ground down hard on the archangel, and a moan slipped out of Lucifer before he could stop it. Fuck, the way the hunter’s ass rubbed him through the denim of their jeans was intoxicatingly good, and Lucifer had to resist the urge to vanish all of their clothes so that he could be pressed against a naked Sam instead. 

Frustrated, Sam pushed the archangel back into a reclining position. Lucifer leaned against the headboard, one eyebrow raised in an inquisitive gesture. Sam smirked, throwing Lucifer a jaunty wink. Lucifer’s confusion deepened, but he allowed himself to relax against the headboard, waiting curiously to see what the hunter had planned.

Sam swallowed nervously, his throat suddenly dry. He didn’t have a lot of experience doing this to someone else, but he’d had it done to him plenty of times, and it seemed like a good idea. Lucifer was a sight to behold, hair a mess, lips swollen from kissing, cheeks flushed. Fuck, he looked good, and Sam wanted to make him fall apart. He wanted Lucifer’s iron control to break, wanted that cool exterior burned away, wanted the archangel to come apart under him.

Sam took in a slow, deep breath, steadying his breathing. He slowly undid the archangel’s belt, Lucifer lifting his hips slightly to allow the hunter to open his jeans and pull them down slightly. Sam pulled Lucifer’s worn jeans down, his hands lingering on Lucifer’s ass a tad longer than necessary. Lucifer smirked, one hand coming down to card through Sam’s hair. Sam made a contented noise in the back of his throat, briefly nuzzling against Lucifer before returning to the task at hand.

Sam took a moment to press closer to Lucifer’s clothed erection, pressing open-mouthed kisses along it. Lucifer hissed, hips twitching upwards slightly. Sam felt a surge of lust travel down his body when he noticed how the wet material was clinging to Lucifer’s cock. Fuck, that was hotter than it should’ve been, and Sam had to stop himself from thrusting his hips against the bed. With a touch of impatience, Sam pulled Lucifer’s cock free from his underwear, the archangel letting out a slight hiss of relief. Sam smirked, slowly running his hand over the length of Lucifer’s cock, enjoying the sensation of the archangel squirming underneath him.

“Quit teasing, Sam.” Lucifer growled, his grip on Sam’s hair tightening so that it was almost painful. Sam rolled his eyes, making a face at the archangel, but obliged. He ran his tongue along the underside of Lucifer’s cock, and Lucifer groaned, his head lolling back. Encouraged, Sam took the tip into his mouth, sucking gently. Lucifer let out an almost pained groan, his hips bucked up instinctively. Sam fought down a laugh, enjoying the power he had over the archangel. It was nice to watch Lucifer squirm.

Sam’s amusement died in his throat when Lucifer’s grip on his hair tightened, holding him down. The hunter barely had time to relax his throat before the archangel snapped his hips up, forcing his cock down the hunter’s throat. Sam expected to gag, but was pleasantly surprised when he didn’t. He mentally shrugged, deciding not to look a gift horse in the mouth, and let out a small hum of pleasure, smirking when Lucifer let out a hiss of pleasure in response. He relaxed, allowing Lucifer to fuck into his mouth, enjoying the moans that tore their way out of Lucifer’s throat.

Sam let out a garbled moan as Lucifer pulled his hair, the sensation sending a sharp shock of pleasure down his spine. His hips jerked instinctively, and he moaned loudly as the movement brought friction to his aching cock. _Fuck_ , that felt good. He couldn’t help himself from repeating the motion, more fluidly this time, settling into a rhythm of fucking himself against the mattress while Lucifer thrust into his mouth.

“Fuck, Sam, do you have any idea how good you look?” Lucifer growled, the pace of his hips stuttering slightly. “Taking my cock like a whore, fucking yourself on the mattress? Shit, Sam, you’re fucking perfect.” Sam moaned, the pace of his hips growing slightly erratic. Fuck, Lucifer really knew how to push his damn buttons, didn’t he? 

Lucifer curled his fingers in Sam’s long hair, tugging sharply. Sam jerked, his entire body going momentarily stiff before his eyes rolled back, spasms racking his body. Lucifer would’ve frozen, but his body was on autopilot, hips moving erratically, frantically fucking into Sam’s slack mouth. He started to pull the hunter’s head back, but Sam refused to move, instead sinking down on Lucifer’s cock so that the hunter’s nose was pressed against the archangel’s pelvis. Lucifer arched up with a cry, his chest heaving as he came.

“Ack.” Sam grumbled a moment later, maneuvering up to lay next to the archangel. 

“Hey, I tried to be a gentleman.” Lucifer protested, grinning. “It’s not my fault you’re a whore.”

Sam lifted one shoulder in a shrug, laughing slightly. “Yeah, well, lesson learned, I guess.” He pressed closer to Lucifer, throwing an arm over the archangel’s chest. Lucifer propped his head up with an arm so that he could look down at the hunter, bringing his other arm up to card gently through Sam’s hair. Sam nuzzled into Lucifer’s shoulder, tugging the blanket halfway over them. Lucifer raised an eyebrow.

“You’re not worried about what big brother would say if he caught us?”

“Eh. Screw him. You can always angel-mojo him to forget or something. I’m tired.”

Lucifer grinned, inclining his head in a “fair enough” gesture. He lay there, holding the hunter close to him. True, he couldn’t exactly fall asleep, being an angel, but laying here with Sam was more than enough incentive to stay in bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's late. I've had a busy few weeks. School and stress are kicking my ass. Hopefully this chapter was worth the wait. Smut isn't my strong suit, and feelings are even more of a weak point. I hope you enjoyed it!


	19. Betrayal

“Sam.”

Sam let out a disappointed grumble, nuzzling further into the pillow. He was cold.

“Sam.” The voice said again, sounding angrier this time. Sam frowned. Why were they so irritated? It was early, and besides, where was the harm in sleeping in a bit?

“Sam!”

“Alright, fine!” Sam growled, sitting up. “What?”

Dean stood at the end of his bed, his features set tight with anger. “Lucifer’s gone.”

The blood drained out of Sam’s face. “What?” He croaked, his throat suddenly very dry.

“Lucifer’s gone.” Dean repeated, his voice strained with fury. “Satan is fucking gone, and has his powers back, so you’re going to explain to me _right now_ where he’s gone, or I’m going to drag your ass back to the bunker and lock you in a panic room so fast you’ll get whiplash.” He stopped, taking a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart. “Start talking, Sam. Now.” There was a hint of warning in his voice, and Sam sat up straighter, running a hand through his hair.

“Dean, I-I swear, I don’t know where Lucifer is. He was here last night, and then he must’ve, I don’t know, I don’t know, Dean, I promise I don’t know!” He finished desperately, fighting back tears. He wasn’t sure if it was from fear of his brother or from the unexpected loss of Lucifer, but either way, he knew breaking down right now was the last thing he wanted to do.

“Okay.” Dean said, nodding slowly. “Okay. Here’s what we’re gonna do. You’re gonna get in the Impala, and when we get back to the hunter, you’re letting Cas get in your head so we know what you’re not telling us.”

“What?! No!” Sam cried, standing. “Dean, I’m not lying to you, and I’m sure as hell not letting Cas mess around with my head. You remember what happened the last time he did that? I had hallucinations, and they drove me insane. I’m not letting him do that again.”

“Oh, and the Satanic hallucinations have really affected you, long-term.” Dean sneered. “Look at you; you’re sleeping with the guy! Don’t try to pretend like he just up and left without telling you about it. You’re his perfect little vessel, aren’t you?”

Sam dimly realized he was shaking and his hands were balled into fists at his side, but a red film of anger had descended over the room, and everything seemed to take a backseat to it. He found himself inches away from his brother, shouting at the top of his lungs. 

You want me to come back to the bunker? Fine! I’ll go back to the bunker. But if you think for a second that I’m letting Cas screw around with my head, you’ve lost your goddamn mind. What’s gotten into you?! Lucifer’s not making me drink demon blood, he’s not preventing me from hunting; hell, he saved your life! I wouldn’t be surprised if half of your so-called “brotherly concern” was you being a jealous bastard over the fact that you’re too scared to tell Cas you love him!”

Dean went white, his face contorted with rage. For a moment, it looked as though he might hit Sam, but he took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. Sam stood there silently, waiting for Dean to make a move. After a long, tense silence, Dean spoke, his voice tight with barely repressed anger.

“Meet me in the Impala in five minutes. Get your stuff, brush your teeth, rub one off, I don’t care. We’re leaving.”

He stalked out of the room, slamming the door behind him, leaving Sam alone in the motel room. As soon as the door closed, Sam deflated, slumping down on the bed.

Lucifer was gone. 

He’d manipulated Sam into getting his freedom, and once he had it, he’d left. Dean had been telling him all along that Lucifer was manipulating him, and Sam hadn’t believed him. He’d fallen hook, line, and sinker for the Devil’s act, and now Lucifer was free. He’d freed the Devil, _again_.

Of course it was his fault, he thought bitterly. Dean was right, yet again, and Cas would be as angelically righteous as ever. Christ, it was like nothing had changed since the first damn time this had happened. Sam was still a gullible dumbass, and now he’d have to spend the next few years bowing and scraping and begging for forgiveness. The thought left an acrid taste in Sam’s mouth, and he fought back the urge to scream. It wasn’t _fair_. Dean had screwed up plenty of times, but no, it was always _Sam_ who screwed up big-time. Dean slept with a few people he shouldn’t, but Sam was the ex-blood junkie who had just set the Devil free for the second time.

Maybe if he got Lucifer to come back, Dean wouldn’t be as mad. It’d certainly save them a lot of time and worry, but there was no guaranteeing that Lucifer wouldn’t deep-fry them. It was worth a shot, though, right? It had to be.

“Lucifer, if you’re listening…” He sighed, rubbing his face with a hand. “Come back. Come back, and we’ll talk, I don’t know. Dean’s pissed. Can’t say I blame him. I’m pretty pissed too. Just...come back, please. If you don’t, we’ll-we’ll have to hunt you. Again.” He paused, swallowing hard. “I don’t want to have to do that.” He finished quietly. “Please, Lucifer.”

Sam waited for as long as he dared, checking his watch obsessively. After five minutes, Dean came back, pounding on the motel door, making Sam jump. 

“Come on, Sammy! I’m getting old out here. Cas is expecting us.”

“Coming!” Sam called back, his heart sinking. It had been too much to hope for. He shouldn’t have even bothered. He stood, slinging his bag over his back and walking out of the room. Dean was waiting outside, clearly impatient. He didn’t ask what took Sam so long, merely putting a firm hand on his arm, steering him outside to where the Impala was idling, its engine purring steadily.

The drive back to the bunker was spent in uncomfortable silence. They went through a drive-through for lunch, barely speaking a word to each other than to ask for a napkin or to request a bathroom break. Sam spent most of the drive with his head pressed against the cool glass of the window, trying to sleep. He was largely unsuccessful, but feigned sleep as much as he could. He didn’t walk to talk to Dean, and though Dean undoubtedly shared that sentiment, it was easier for both of them if they pretended the reason for their lack of conversation was Sam sleeping.

Sam did manage to fall into a fitful sleep for the last hour or so. He dozed uncomfortably, twitched and mumbling frequently. Dean sent occasional concerned glances his way, but each look ended with an unconscious tensing of the older hunter’s jaw. It wasn’t entirely Sam’s fault, Dean told himself. His younger brother was gullible and naive, always had been. The problem was that he was so damn _determined_ to follow his gullible, naive instincts. If he’d just listen to Dean, listen to Cas, listen to _reason_ , then they’d never have gotten into this situation. Christ, you’d think the kid would have learned the first time he’d started the damn Apocalypse, but apparently, some things never changed.

“We’re here.” Dean said gruffly, shaking Sam’s shoulder. Sam started, jerking slightly before relaxing back against the seat. Dean got out of the car, and Sam followed him, grabbing several duffel bags out of the truck. They traipsed inside, the tension between them almost palpable.

“Dean.” Cas said automatically, standing to greet them. The angel looked haggard, his trenchcoat torn and dirty, his usually tousled hair standing on end. “We have a lot of work to do. I’ve narrowed down the search to several choice tomes, though the ingredients for the most likely spell will be very difficult to procure.”

“We’re kinda running against the clock here, Cas.” Dean said, setting down the bags. “Can’t you just angel-mojo them up?”

Cas rolled his eyes. “I would if I could, Dean,” He said, a hint of irritation creeping into his voice. “But I can’t just produce oil that was blessed during the new moon. I’d have to look for some. The same goes for one of the silver coins given to Judas in return for his betrayal of Jesus. They’ll take time to find.”

Dean winced. “Okay, yeah, that makes sense. Are there any other spells we could try, any bindings that might work? Do we still have the rings from those Horsemen?”

Cas shook his head. “There are other spells, but this one would be the most effective and has the highest chance of success. The rings could work, but as you said, Lucifer no longer has need for a vessel, and persuading him to return to the Cage is extremely unlikely.”

“Wait, wait.” Sam interrupted. “What are you talking about, spells?”

There was a moment of silence, during which Cas and Dean stared at Sam, their expressions inscrutable. Finally, Cas sighed, seeming to deflate under Sam’s gaze.

“We’re trying to find a spell to put Lucifer back in the Cage.” Cas mumbled, refusing to meet Sam’s gaze. Sam opened his mouth to speak, but Cas cut him off. “I know it’s not something you want, but your feelings about the matter are irrelevant. Lucifer has escaped with all his powers, and we have no idea what he is planning. We have to assume, and prepare for, the worst.”

Sam stared incredulously at Cas, his mouth hanging open in disbelief. “You’re kidding, right? If Lucifer wanted us dead, he’d have done it the minute he was free. He didn’t have to help me save Dean, Cas. He didn’t have to kill that ghost bitch. Why would he do that if he was planning on killing us, huh?”

Cas opened his mouth, then promptly closed it, hanging his head slightly. “Sam, I understand this may be... _difficult_ for you to accept, but Lucifer does not- _has not_ cared about humanity, ever. He was imprisoned for a reason, and he needs to be put back in that prison, whether you chose to help us or not.”

“Whether I help you or not, huh?” Sam repeated, lifting his chin defiantly. “So, what, you guys are gonna lock me in a panic room again?” He paused, giving them a moment to respond. No one did, so he continued. “Look, I’ll help you find Lucifer. I _want_ to find Lucifer. But we don’t throw him back in the Cage until we find out why he left, or how he got out in the first place, okay?”

Cas seemed as though he might agree, just for the sake of ending the argument, but Dean shook his head. “No, Sammy.” He said, sighing. “We need you in on this one. All or nothing. You can’t back out of sending Satan back to Hell just because you two…” His mouth twisted as though he’d bit into something foul, and he swallowed hard, a muscle in his jaw working. “You can’t back out of sending him to Hell because you slept with him. We could be dealing with another Apocalypse, and this time we don’t have any guarantee that the rings will work. This ritual is our best shot, and we can’t afford to _not_ take that shot.” He paused, staring hard at Sam. “Do you understand?”

Sam nodded, his jaw clenched shut. He understood perfectly. Lucifer had, in their eyes, manipulated Sam into getting his freedom, and was now off to terrorize the world and had to be stopped. Sam couldn’t really blame them for seeing it that way. He took a deep, steadying breath, trying to calm the anger boiling in his gut. 

“You okay, Sammy?” Dean asked, concern wrinkling his brow. “You seemed a little out of it there for a minute.”

“Yeah, I’m alright.” Sam said, forcing a smile. “It’s been a long day.” Dean nodded, still a little suspicious, but he let the matter drop. 

“Alright, well, I’m gonna go help Cas with the ritual. You can monitor the news to see if there’s any signs of Lucifer.” Dean said, placing a careful hand on Sam’s shoulder. Sam nodded, and Dean walked off with Cas, leaving Sam alone in the kitchen.

Sam sighed, his shoulders slumping. Fuck, today wasn’t going well. He silently resolved to give Lucifer a piece of his mind as soon as he could, but until then, he resigned himself to scouring the internet for anything out of the ordinary. He reluctantly pulled out his laptop, settling down at the kitchen table, leaning close to the screen. There was already a headache brewing at the base of his skull, but he ignored it. He had work to do.

Hours later, Sam collapsed onto his bed. His head was pounding, his neck and back ached from being hunched over his laptop, and to top it all off, he hadn’t found a single thing about Lucifer. He couldn’t very well Google “Lucifer”, not unless he wanted to find “local Satanists near YOU!” or get a religious lecture from pop-up ads. There didn’t seem to be any signs of the Apocalypse, but that didn’t mean that Lucifer wasn’t torturing people or otherwise causing mayhem.

Speaking of Lucifer…

Sam sat up, glancing at his door to make sure it was shut and locked. Lucifer hadn’t responded to him this morning, but maybe he would now. It was worth a shot, at least. What harm could it do? 

“Hey, Lucifer.” He said, wincing at how loud his voice was in the empty room. “I know I wasn’t super great to you last time, but, uh...can we talk, or something? I don’t know. I don’t want to have to hunt you. I don’t want to send you back to the Cage.” He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I-I care about you, as stupid as that sounds. I know everything was probably just you trying to manipulate me, like Dean says. It-It worked. It definitely worked. You’re the Devil, and I should never have believed that it was anything but you trying to get free. But, uh,” He stared down at his hands, his cheeks burning. “I did. I’m sorry for doing this. I know you don’t want to hear me begging you to come and explain yourself, but...please. Please come back, Lucifer. I...I love you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry, I'll fix it, I promise! There's still going to be a happy ending, there just might have to be a bit more work to get there. Looking back on it, I'm very mean to Sam, but I promise that's not done maliciously. My writing brain is evil and likes to make people suffer, apparently. It'll end happily, I promise. Hope you enjoyed the chapter!


	20. An Offer

“How’s the research coming?” Dean asked around a mouthful of eggs. Sam lifted one shoulder in a half-shrug, taking his time pouring his coffee before replying. 

“Still no signs of the Apocalypse, so that’s good. Demon activity seems to be holding pretty steady, too. I’ve reached out to a couple hunting buddies, and none of them have seen anything out of the ordinary. Guess Lucifer’s laying low.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Dean said, nodding his head slowly. “You think it’s good or bad that we can’t find anything?”

Sam sighed, settling down at the table. “I’m not sure. It’s definitely a good thing that he isn’t trying to start another Apocalypse, but as for the rest of it...well, it’d be good to have at least some idea where he is and what he’s up to.” There was a moment of silence, during which Dean ate more eggs and Sam sipped his coffee mournfully. He’d done a good job of putting his feelings for the archangel aside for the past week, but there was a persistent dull ache that he hadn’t quite managed to get rid of. 

“Has Cas come up with anything?” Sam asked, trying to fill the silence. Silences had never been a comfortable thing between him and Dean, and they’d been worse than usual for the past week. 

“No, not yet.” Dean replied, his mood seeming to dampen slightly. The angel had been gone all week, with only a few scattered texts at odd hours to let the hunters know that yes, he was still alive, and no, he hadn’t found anything. 

“Maybe he’s running down a lead?” Sam suggested, trying to cheer Dean up. The older hunter had been... _off_ somehow ever since they got back. At first, Sam had assumed that Dean was just really pissed at him, which was understandable. Then, he’d figured that it was because Cas wasn’t around. Dean would never admit it, but he cared about the angel. A blind man could see that Dean was in love with Cas, but apparently, Dean still hadn’t figured it out.

“Maybe.” Dean replied gloomily, poking halfheartedly at his eggs. Sam couldn’t help but feel a twinge of sympathy for his brother. He couldn’t blame Dean for being angry, really, and Sam did have a history of trusting the wrong people and making the wrong decisions. And now Cas was gone, so really, could he blame Dean for being upset?

“Alright, well, I’m gonna go surf the net and look for clues.” Sam announced a few minutes later, once the silence had become unbearable. “You’re still working on the ritual, right? We can swap if you want.”

Dean shook his head. “No, it’s fine. The books aren’t that dusty, and besides, you’re a little computer whiz. We need you keeping an eye out for Satan, while we work on the ritual.”

Sam nodded obediently, dutifully setting off to the library and towards his laptop. A small, bitter part of him said that Dean and Cas wanted him away from the ritual because they didn’t trust him not to double-cross them or screw something up. For once, he didn’t bother telling that part of him to shut up. It was true, wasn’t it? After all, if there was a way to bring Lucifer back without taking away his power or sending him back to the Cage, Sam would take that way every time. And what was wrong with that? Lucifer had actually been pretty helpful on their hunt, and he was a lot more fun to be around than Cas. Sam’s feelings towards Lucifer had nothing to do with it. Nothing at all.

Sam settled down at a table with a sigh, pulling his laptop closer to him. Part of him wondered if Dean wasn’t also monitoring the news for signs of Lucifer too, because he didn’t trust Sam not to tell the truth. _That_ part of him he told to shut up. Trying to track down the Devil was hard enough without constantly seconding-guessing himself. Shaking himself out of his thoughts, he opened his laptop, resigning himself to another day of screen headaches and scouring the news.

“Hello, Sam.”

Sam nearly knocked his laptop off the desk when he spun around, his mouth falling open in shock. Lucifer was standing behind him, leaning casually against the wall, seemingly amused by Sam’s startled reaction.

“Why, Sammy, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Lucifer drawled, smirking. Sam stared incredulously at the archangel, his shock rapidly turning to anger.

“Well, shit, Lucifer, maybe I wouldn’t be so surprised if you hadn’t fucking vanished.” Sam snapped. “Maybe if you’d told me what was happening, answered any of my prayers, _explained yourself_ in any way, then I wouldn’t be so surprised.”

Lucifer shrugged. “Why should I do that, hmm?” He asked, his tone taking on a note of challenge. “After all, you’re a grubby little human. Why should I waste my time with you?”

Sam recoiled slightly, struck dumb. This...this wasn’t Lucifer. Not _his_ Lucifer, the one who had saved them from an angry ghost, the one who had promised to help him lock Dean and Cas in a closet until they admitted their feelings for each other, the one who had listened to all his stupid self-deprecating speeches and told him it was okay.

Then again, maybe this had been Lucifer all along, and everything else was just a ploy to get his freedom.

Maybe Dean had been right all along.

It was a terrifying thought, so Sam pushed it aside, focusing on the archangel standing in front of him. Lucifer’s eyes danced with amusement, his tongue darting out to wet his hips as he watched the hunter. Sam took a deep breath, standing up slowly and walking over to the archangel until there was barely a foot of space separating them.

“If I’m just a stupid human, why are you here? As a matter of fact, how did you get here? The bunker is warded.”

Lucifer’s grin widened, becoming almost predatory. “Oh, Sammy, they really don’t tell you anything, do they?” Sam stared at him, his confusion growing. Lucifer sighed dramatically. “You see, Sammy, your lovely little bunker is indeed warded, but I’ve been here before, remember? You locked me in the dungeon your basement. I guess I just, I don’t know, remembered how to get here.”

Sam inclined his head in a “fair enough” gesture, but something still felt off to him. “Why bother coming back here at all? You were home free. Dean and Cas have been working on a ritual, but it won’t work unless we can find you. And we couldn’t. So...why come back?”

Lucifer shrugged. “Boredom, I suppose. It’s very dull out there, with no one hunting me. Plus, I have to stay under the radar, so I can’t even torture anyone. Do you have any idea how boring that is?”

Sam rolled his eyes. “My heart bleeds for you, Lucifer. Seriously. Cut the crap. Why’d you come back?”

Lucifer’s grin disappeared, his face becoming serious. “I missed you.”

Sam snorted, starting to turn away. “Okay, Lucifer. Whatever you say.” Lucifer grabbed his arm, holding him in place.  
“Sam, I mean it. I missed you.”  
Sam wrenched his arm out of the archangel’s grasp, his brow furrowing in confusion and anger.

“If you missed me, then what was all that crap about me being a stupid, tiny human?” He snapped, not bothering to hide the anger in his voice.

Lucifer sighed, his shoulders slumping. “I had to make sure you weren’t going to try to capture me. Antagonizing you was the best way to find that out.”

Sam paused, considering the archangel’s words. True, if he’d wanted to capture Lucifer, he’d have done it the instant Lucifer started insulting him. Still, he wasn’t quite ready to drop everything and trust the archangel. He’d still abandoned Sam at the motel, and had been missing for a week.

“Okay, say I believe you.” Sam said slowly, choosing his words carefully. “Which I’m not sure I do, by the way. But for the sake of argument, let’s say I do believe you. You came back because you missed me. Okay. You’re back. What are you gonna do now?”

“Take you with me.”

“W-what?” Sam croaked after a moment of stunned silence. “What do you mean?”

“I could take you with me, Sam.” Lucifer said quietly, stepping closer to the hunter. “Anywhere in the world, anywhere you want to go. You wouldn’t have to hunt. You could do anything, be anything you want. I could take you to the suburbs, set you up with a nice house and a job and a dog. I want to set you free, return the favor, if you will.”

Sam sat down hard, stunned. Lucifer wanted to...he wanted to...no. No. It wasn’t possible. There was no way Lucifer was offering what Sam thought he was offering. A life without hunting, a real, normal, life? He’d given up on that dream years ago, after all the attempts at getting out of hunting failed. But now...maybe he could? No. It was too much to hope for. All of this was probably a dream, or else a hallucination brought on by screen headaches and lack of sleep. 

“Why?” Sam managed, staring incredulously at the archangel. “Why me?”

Lucifer smiled, but there was a touch of sadness in it. “Well, it’s like you said, Sam.”

“You...you love me?” Sam asked incredulously, his voice barely more than a whisper. Lucifer’s bittersweet smile widened, and he nodded. Sam cradled his head in his hands, pressing the base of his palms against his closed eyes until spots danced in his vision. This was too much to handle. First Lucifer vanished, then he came back and called Sam stupid, then it was all some kind of test, and now Lucifer loved him and wanted to get him out of his life of hunting? No. Too much was happening too quickly for Sam to process.

“I can’t do this.” Sam said, his voice muffled. Lucifer laid a hand on his shoulder, the weight comforting enough that Sam couldn’t help but lean into the touch. He took a deep, steadying breath, trying to sort out his scattered thoughts. Lucifer was back. Good. Lucifer cared about him. Also good. Lucifer wanted him to leave Dean. Bad. Okay. More good than bad, so far. Still, it put Sam in the tricky position of having to choose between Lucifer and Dean, and that was absolutely not a position he wanted to be in.

The sound of footsteps approaching the library pulled Sam out of his thoughts and into a panic. He pushed Lucifer roughly off of him, not caring about the archangel’s hurt expression. “Go, go go!” Sam hissed, flapping his hands urgently. Lucifer raised an eyebrow, but got the hint, vanishing with barely a sound. Sam turned back to his laptop, carefully arranging his features into what he hoped was a neutral mask, trying to calm the frantic pounding of his heart.

Dean came into the library, his arms full of numerous dusty tomes and clutching several sheets of paper. “Hey, Sam, we need you to make a supply run before we head out.” Dean said, setting the papers down on the table. Sam frowned, peering at the words scrawled on the paper.

“Head out?” He asked, picking up the papers and scanning them. The list seemed fairly standard, with things like rock salt and bullets being for hunting, and beer and granola bars being for them. 

“Yeah, Cas called. He said he’s tracked down everything we need for the ritual, so we’re gonna hit the road tomorrow morning. Any luck tracking down Satan?”

“Uh, no, not yet.” Sam said, his voice breaking slightly. _Dammit._

Dean stared at him, brow heavy with suspicion. “Are you sure?” He asked, his voice taking on a warning tone. Sam knew that tone. It was the tone John always used when he knew the boys were lying to him, and he was giving them one last chance to fess up before they got in trouble.

“I’m sure.” Sam said, unafraid to meet Dean’s gaze. “Maybe we’ll have more luck when we’re on the road, but so far, Lucifer’s done a good job of flying under the radar.” Dean nodded, surveying Sam with a kind of clinical detachment that made Sam fight to keep from shivering. Finally, Dean shrugged, turning away. Sam let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, and relaxed.

“Well, I guess there’s nothing we can do about that.” Dean said. “I’m gonna practice reading the ritual and pack the car. Cas said he’ll get back tonight, so we’ll leave tomorrow morning. I’d get on that grocery list if I were you.” He called over his shoulder as he walked out of the room, leaving Sam alone in the library.

Sam sighed, slumping back in his chair. Shit. He had until tomorrow morning to decide if he wanted to go with Lucifer, otherwise, he’d spend the next month tracking down the archangel with the purpose of locking him back in the Cage. 

He couldn’t believe he was even considering it. Dean was family, hell, Cas was family too. Team Free Will, right? Hunting things, saving people, the family business, his entire life, was about to go out the window because _Satan_ was offering to, what...give Sam everything he had ever wanted?

Lucifer was offering him everything he’d ever wanted on a silver platter, and damned if Sam wasn’t considering taking it.

Shit.


	21. For A While Yet

Sam didn’t sleep much that night. The little sleep he had was filled with vague images and angry shouting, making him wake up, covered in sweat and shaking. 

He gave up on sleep at 5:30 am, resigning himself to a day of exhaustion and bone-deep weariness. He padded to the kitchen, his bare feet making almost no noise on the wood floors. To his surprise, he wasn’t the only one up. Cas was seated at the kitchen table, bent over a book, his forehead furrowed in concentration.

“Hey, Cas.” Sam said, heading over to the coffeepot. “Whatcha reading?”

Cas looked up, his gaze searching. He studied Sam for a moment, his head titled to the side. “It’s an old text about the binding on Lucifer’s cage.” He replied eventually, his eyes never leaving Sam’s face. Sam nodded, resisting the urge to shift uncomfortably.

“Is it...informative?” He asked, trying to keep his voice as neutral as possible. 

“It is.” Cas replied, his eyes narrowing slightly. Sam stood there, a mug of coffee in hand, waiting for Castiel to speak. Finally, the angel sighed, his gaze dropping. 

“Sam, I know Lucifer was here last night. I know the choice he offered you, and I-I know it’s not my place to say, but...I’ll understand if you choose to go with him.”

“Cas, I-you don’t-I mean, Dean wouldn’t-” Sam stammered, trying to find the rights words to express his feelings. He hadn’t been expecting that. Hell, Cas was the last person he’d expect to give Sam his blessing to run off with the Devil. 

Cas’ gaze returned to him, his eyes remorseful. “Sam, we have never been close. I never answered your prayers unless I had to, and truth be told, I always preferred Dean over you. You know that. I admit, I have thought about offering something similar to Dean, but my sense of duty, and doubtless his as well, was too strong for such a thing. You...you have tried to escape this life before. I can understand why you’d want to do so now.”

Sam shifted, running his tongue over his lip. “I’m not sure if that was an honest, compassionate speech, or just a string of carefully disguised insults, so your meaning is a little lost on me. You’re okay with me leaving because you like Dean better and my sense of duty was never that strong anyway? Thanks, Cas. Glad to know that the time I spent in the Cage and all the torture I’ve gone through has been appreciated.”

Cas frowned, shaking his head. “That’s not what I meant, Sam. I was trying to say that, at times, I know you feel like a...third wheel. It’s easy to see why. Dean and I-” The angel swallowed, casting a nervous look in the direction of Dean’s room. “Dean and I share a very profound bond, and I know we haven’t always treated you the best in the past.”

Sam sucked in a breath between his teeth, thinking over the angel’s words. Castiel seemed sincere enough, and a large part of Sam agreed with what Cas was saying. He did feel like a third wheel a lot of the time, and yeah, Dean and Cas sometimes treated him like crap. But...they were still his family. Team Free Will. Lucifer was great, but deep down, Sam knew that he’d end up crawling back to Dean and begging for forgiveness. He let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his hair. The more he thought about it, the more conflicted he was.

“If you’re going to leave, I suggest you do it now.” Cas said quietly. “We’re planning on leaving in the morning, and Dean will be up in a few hours. I don’t think you’d want to be around when he wakes up.”

Sam nodded, a hard lump forming in his throat. He’d never expected this; he’d never _wanted_ this, but now here he was, about to abandon his family again. 

“I-I, uh, need to grab a few things, before I go.” He croaked. Cas nodded understandingly, offering Sam an encouraging smile that didn’t quite hide the sadness in his eyes. Sam walked away rapidly, swallowing down the tears that threatened to well up. He packed rapidly, making as little noise as possible, throwing clothes and his laptop into a duffel bag. Sam took one last look at his room, his heart in his throat, before closing the door and turning away. He couldn’t help but feel like he was leaving his home, even though they spent most of their time traveling. The bunker was the most permanent home he’d ever had, and now...he was leaving it. 

Sam took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a long moment before walking back to the kitchen. Cas was still seated at the table, head buried in his book, but he looked up when Sam walked in.

“I’m...ready to go.”

Cas nodded, getting up to give Sam a hug. Sam was surprised, but not unpleasantly so. Cas wasn’t a very physical person, except with Dean, and getting a hug from the angel...he had to fight back tears, instead pulling Cas into a tight grip. They stayed like that for a moment, then broke apart. 

Cas’ eyes were sad as he looked up at the hunter. “You know we’ll have to keep searching for Lucifer, don’t you?”

Sam nodded, a lump forming in his throat. “Yeah, Cas, I know. But you guys’ll do other stuff, to. You’ll hunt ghosts and monsters, and you’ll be great at it. You’ll get to be a hunter, Cas.”

Cas smiled, inclining his head slightly. “Thank you, Sam. You should go now, before Dean wakes up. Get a head start.”

Sam nodded, turning and heading out the door. It closed behind him with an awful sort of finality, and the guilt that had been bubbling in his gut since he’d awoken reared up inside him. He took a deep, steadying breath, trying to keep the negative thoughts at bay, at least for the moment.

“Hey, Sammy.”

Lucifer’s voice came from behind him, making Sam jump slightly. He turned, hastily fixing a smile onto his face. Lucifer seemed genuinely pleased to see him, and for a moment, Sam’s guilt assuaged. Sam stood, crossing over to the archangel and wrapping him in a tight hug. Lucifer laughed, returning the gesture.

“Happy to see me?” Lucifer asked teasingly.

“You have no idea.” Sam said, his voice slightly muffled from his head being pressed against Lucifer’s shoulder. Lucifer chuckled, pulling out of the hug. Sam smiled, and Lucifer’s eyes narrowed, seeming to pick up on the insincerity of the expression. For a moment, it looked as though Lucifer might question him, but thankfully for Sam, Lucifer reconsidered, instead taking Sam’s hand and taking flight.

Sam didn’t register that they’d moved until his feet hit the ground. He stumbled, nearly colliding with a lamppost before Lucifer grabbed him, hauling him upright and steadying his balance. 

“Easy there, Sammy.” Lucifer said, keeping a steadying arm wrapped around Sam’s shoulders. “Wouldn’t want you dying of some silly head injury before we can have any fun, would we?”

Sam shook his head, forcing a smile. Lucifer gave him a searching look, but Sam started to speak before Lucifer could say anything.

“So, where to first?” Sam asked, keeping his voice as light as possible.

“Breakfast.” Lucifer replied, pointing towards a nearby diner. Sam allowed the archangel to steer him inside, feeling some of the tension ease out of his shoulders as they sat down. The diner wasn’t the nicest place in the world, but it was familiar. Sam had been in more diners than he could count, and it was actually surprisingly nice to be able to eat without the stress of hunting hanging over his head. This was like a weekend off, he told himself. 

Breakfast went almost alarmingly well. Lucifer joked and teased, and occasionally threatened to turn the waitress into a frog whenever she flirted with Sam. Sam found himself laughing and smiling, genuinely enjoying himself in a way he hadn’t in far too long. He forgot about Dean and Cas, forgot about hunting, forgot about Cas’ promise that he and Dean would continue hunting Lucifer. _God_ , he’d missed this. He felt fifteen years younger, when he’d just been starting at Stanford, eating breakfast with a different stunning blonde.

“You doing okay, Sammy?” Lucifer asked, his voice quiet and soothing.

“Yeah.” Sam said, shrugging. “It doesn’t feel real yet, I guess. It still feels like this is some kind of cover, like we’re about to go interrogate another cougar and then poke around a graveyard after dark.”

“We could do that, if you’d like. I could even kill someone for added realism.” Lucifer offered. Sam snorted.

“No, I think I can manage without any bodies, thanks.” Sam said, “And you don’t need to kill anyone. I know we’re scum and all, but I really don’t want to be on the run from the FBI again.”

Lucifer smirked. “Again? I didn’t know you were such a bad boy, Sammy.”

Sam coughed, hiding his blush by taking a large gulp of coffee. “It wasn’t my fault. Some leviathans went on a killing spree pretending to be me and Dean.”

“Never a dull moment with you, is there?” Lucifer quipped, raising an eyebrow.

Sam laughed. “Reconsidering our arrangement, Luci?” He teased, leaning forward, resting his chin on his hand.

“Not in the slightest.” Lucifer replied, his eyes dancing. “Though we may have to work on the whole “not-killing-people” thing. I don’t know if I’ll be able to handle the boredom.”

“I’m sure I can find some way to entertain you.” Sam said, smirking. Lucifer raised an eyebrow.

“That so, Sammy?” He asked, voice taking on a note of challenge. Sam’s grin widened, and he deliberately bit his lip, swiping his tongue over his lip. Lucifer’s eyebrow arched a little higher. “Subtle.” He said dryly, but Sam noticed that his eyes were darker, his gaze flicking down to Sam’s mouth.

“So, where to next?” Sam asked, leaning back in his seat. Lucifer shrugged. 

“It’s up to you. I’d suggest dropping off your stuff first, though. You wouldn’t want to be wandering around with a duffel bag all day.”

Sam peered out the window of the diner, looking around the small town. “Is there a motel around here, or-?”

“A motel?” Lucifer said incredulously. “Sam, you wound me. Nothing but the best for you.” 

Sam blanched. Okay, the motels they usually stayed in were kinda shitty, as a general rule, but he wasn’t sure how to feel about Lucifer trying to turn into his sugar daddy. “Lucifer, honestly, a motel is fine, or a cheap hotel. You don’t have to spend a lot of money on anything.”

Lucifer grinned, showing his teeth. “Money?”

Sam groaned. “Please tell me you didn’t abuse your angelic powers from God to illegally obtain a hotel room.”

Lucifer scoffed. “There’s nothing in the Constitution forbidding angels from obtaining hotel rooms through use of their powers, Sam. I thought you’d know that. You’re the one who was a lawyer.”

“I was pre-law.” Sam grumbled halfheartedly, but look Lucifer’s outstretched hand nonetheless. A moment later, they were in a spacious hotel room, which thankfully didn’t seem too ridiculously expensive. It was nice; hell, it was one of the nicest hotels Sam had ever been in, but it wasn’t opulent enough to warrant throwing a fit. 

Still, Sam couldn’t help but feel guilty as he looked around the room. Here he was, being spoiled rotten by Satan, while his brother tried to hunt them down. What was he doing? He always did this. He ran away, lived a lie for a few months, then went back to hunting. Except this time, he’d chosen the Devil over his brother, and that was bound to create some bad blood between them. Christ, he was a fuckup.

“Hey, Sammy.” Lucifer said, putting a hand on Sam’s shoulder. “You doing okay? You spaced out on me for a minute there.”

“Yeah.” Sam said, his voice cracking slightly. Dammit.

“What’s the matter?” Lucifer asked, seeming genuinely concerned, which only made Sam feel worse. Great job, Sam. You made the Devil feel bad. Can’t do anything right, can you?

Sam shrugged. “Guilt, I guess.” He said, his voice thick with emotion. “I always do this. I leave, and then a year later, I come back. This is just another long break from hunting, and I don’t know why I’m dragging you into it. It’s just another stupid argument with Dean, and this is just my latest way of rebelling and pissing him off. You don’t have to do these nice things for me. Start the Apocalypse if you want, go kill some people, I don’t care. Dean’s not going to stop trying to hunt you down, and it’s my responsibility to help him do that.”

Lucifer was quiet for a moment, and Sam sighed, rubbing his forehead. “Look, just dump me off back at the bunker, and I’ll hope Dean hasn’t gotten up yet. It’ll be fine. I-I don’t want you to have to put up with all of my crap.”

“I thought this was what you wanted.” Lucifer said quietly.

“It _is_ , Lucifer, but I can’t-”

“Yes, you can.” Lucifer snapped, the sudden outburst taking Sam by surprise. “You can call your brother right now and tell him to stick his self-righteous head up his ass and then block his number. You don’t have _any_ responsibility to your brother, Sam. Can’t you see that?”

Sam shook his head. “Maybe you could, Lucifer, but I’m not that...determined.”

“You’ve gotten this far, haven’t you?” Lucifer snarled. “What’s a few more days? Come on, Sammy, give it a _chance_!” His voice took on a slightly pleading tone as he finished his sentence, his eyes wide and imploring.

Sam paused, taking a moment to survey the archangel. Lucifer’s entire body was tense, as though there were a live wire running through him. He should’ve expected it, honestly. Family was always a touchy subject with Lucifer, and Sam should’ve known better than to bring it up. 

“Okay.” Sam said quietly. “I’ll give it a few days. If it’s not going well, if I’m not happy, then I’ll go back. Okay?”

Lucifer relaxed, his expression settling into a grateful smile. “Thank you, Sam.” He said softly, ducking his head, embarrassed by his outburst. Sam smiled, patting Lucifer awkwardly on the shoulder.

“‘S’okay, Luci. Don’t worry. You’ve still got me for a while yet.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter! Yay! This chapter was kinda a struggle, because I wanted it to stay true to Sam's character, but also not be extremely painful or overdramatic. Not sure if I succeeded or not. Sorry for not replying to any comments on the last chapter, I didn't want to risk giving anyone the wrong impression about how this chapter was going to turn out.   
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter!


	22. Ending

Dean didn’t call for the first three days.

Sam was grateful for that. There was no doubt in his mind that Dean had spent much of the first day in a rage, probably shouting a lot and generally being an ass. Poor Cas, having to deal with that. 

There was also no doubt in Sam’s mind that if Dean had called, Sam would’ve run home in an instant.

Not because he missed home or missed Dean; no, because he’d never been good at disobeying his brother, especially not when Dean was pissed. An angry Dean reminded him of an angry John, though, to be fair to Dean, that was more because of Sam’s rampant daddy issues than because of the resemblance between Dean and John. 

On the fourth day of his absence, Dean called.

Sam didn’t answer. Dean didn’t try to call back.

A small part of Sam wondered if he shouldn’t do as Lucifer said and block Dean’s number. Throw away his phone, get a new one, and forget about everything and everyone in his old life. He could go anywhere in the world, so why bother staying in some upscale hotel, waiting for something to drag him back into hunting?

He knew that it wasn’t entirely fair to Lucifer, either. He’d promised the archangel a few days, but they hadn’t even done much besides eat, watch TV or read books, and sit in horrible, tense silence, afraid to speak. If he was being completely honest, he knew it was because Lucifer was afraid of saying anything that would scare him off, and Sam was afraid of saying something that would make it seem like he was _going_ to be scared off. It was a thoroughly unenjoyable experience on all sides.

All of that came to a head on the fourth day.

“You didn’t answer Dean’s call.” Lucifer observed, not looking away from the TV. Sam glanced up from his laptop, shrugging.

“I don’t want to talk to him.” Sam answered shortly. 

“Why not?” Lucifer asked, turning to face Sam. Sam sighed, rubbing a hand over his forehead.

“I don’t know. I don’t want to be yelled at and told I’m a terrible person and a worse brother. I don’t really want to go back to the bunker and help them hunt you down, but I don’t know if I can live my life without being a hunter. It’s what I’ve been all my life, for better or worse, and I don’t know what I’d do without it. Part of this still feels like a dream, and I’m just waiting to wake up in some shitty motel in the middle of nowhere, on a hunt. I can’t allow this to be real, so it has to be another elaborate hallucination.”

“That was...thoroughly depressing.” Lucifer remarked dryly. “Honestly, I’m a little surprised. I didn’t know you had any more alarmingly depressing speeches to give.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Seriously, Lucifer.”

The archangel sobered up, the wry, teasing grin disappearing from his face. He nodded, worrying his bottom lip slightly in a gesture that made Sam’s heart ache.

“I want you to be happy.” Lucifer said quietly, not meeting Sam’s gaze. “If being a hunter with your brother will make you happy, then you should call him back and tell him you’re sorry.”

“I don’t think that’d make me happy.” Sam admitted, twisting his hands nervously. “You...you make me happy, Luci. But I can’t-I can’t leave things the way they are between me and Dean. We’re brothers. He practically raised me. This isn’t the relationship he deserves to have with me. It’s not-” He broke off, taking a deep, shuddering breath. “It’s not the relationship I deserve to have with him, either. I have to fix it, and I don’t think I can fix it and stay with you.”

Lucifer nodded, his face falling into an expressionless mask. Sam drew in on himself, hugging his knees. “I’m sorry, Luci. I really am. I just don’t know any way to fix this that doesn’t involve hunting you.”

“Why do you have to be the one to fix it?” Lucifer asked quietly.

“Cause I’m the one that screwed up!” Sam cried. “I’m the one who slept with the Devil and then ran off with him! I’m the one who abandoned my brother, _again_! Why shouldn’t I be the one to fix it?”

Lucifer shrugged offhandedly. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because Dean is the one who holds everything you do wrong over your head for years, or because he still doesn’t trust you, or because relationships aren’t just one person’s responsibility. Dean’s a dick sometimes too, Sam. He screws up. You’re not _going_ to be perfect. Humans aren’t perfect. As a species, you generally suck. It’s not in your nature to be perfect.”

Sam rolled his eyes, letting out a choked laugh. “I’m trying to be honest and emotional, and you mock my species? Great way of letting me know how seriously you take this, Luci.”

“I _am_ taking this seriously.” Lucifer said reassuringly. “There’s just only so much self-flagellating I can take before I need to lighten the mood. Honestly, Sam, you have some serious self-worth issues. It’s quite concerning.”

“Okay, well, self-worth issues aside, if possible, I want to stay with you and also fix my relationship with Dean.” Sam said.

Lucifer wrinkled his nose. “Mm. Yeah. Not possible. Best of luck to you, though.”

“Thanks.” Sam grumbled. There was a moment of silence, then Sam got up from the bed with a sigh and sat down next to Lucifer. Lucifer smiled, putting an arm around the hunter and holding him close. They stayed like that for a while, the silence stretching comfortably, watching the seemingly constant stream of commercials and bright colors on the TV screen. 

“There isn’t a way to fix my relationship with Dean, is there?” Sam asked, his voice barely more than a whisper. Lucifer sighed, the arm around Sam’s shoulder tightening protectively.

“Give it time.” He said, lifting one shoulder in a half-shrug. “He’s not going to find us, and eventually, he’ll stop trying. I don’t think he’d ever give up on looking for you, but the best thing for you to do is give him time and space.”

“Mm.” Sam murmured, nuzzling closer to Lucifer. There was a moment of silence, then Sam said, “How long?”

Lucifer let out a quiet laugh. “I don’t know, Sam. It’s been a few thousand years, and Michael still hasn’t improved. You’ll have to be the judge of that.” Sam groaned, his shoulders slumping. Lucifer laughed. “Sorry, Sammy. That’s just how it is sometimes.”

_Six months later_

_“Hello, Sam. It’s been about six months since you left. Dean and I are doing well. We received your package last week. I thought it was rather amusing, but Dean didn’t seem to find it nearly as funny. He had asked that Lucifer please not send him yearly subscriptions to Busty Asian Beauties. If it’s any consolation, I very much enjoyed the bee sweater, though it’s far too warm to wear under my coat. I sent you a package in return, though I’m not entirely sure whether the post office will be able to find you. Please ask Lucifer to keep an eye out for it. Sincerely, Castiel.”_

“Think they’ve gotten together yet?” Lucifer asked, his head dangling off the end of the bed. Sam shrugged, turning to the side to plant a kiss onto his boyfriend’s cheek. 

“I hope so. Dean needs Cas in his life. Hopefully he’s pulled his head out of his ass and realized that he’s hopelessly in love with him.”

“Sickening.” Lucifer remarked dryly, wrinkling his nose. Sam snorted. 

“Yeah, you’re one to talk, Mr. Pampers-His-Boyfriend-Constantly.”

“Hey, shut up.” Lucifer retorted, without any heat. Sam laughed. 

“Do you think we’ll ever actually go visit them?” Sam asked, his laughter fading.

Lucifer shrugged. “I think letters and packages are good for now. That was a good idea you had, to send them stuff. It’s a good system. We send them things, they send us things, we talk over letters and keep in touch. Don’t mess with it.”

“If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it?” Sam quipped. Lucifer inclined his head.

“Yeah, if that’s how you want to approach it, then yes.” He said, shrugging. “They haven’t sent us a letter bomb yet, so I think it’s safe to say that the anger has gone. Don’t know how they’d feel about seeing us in person, though. Best not to risk it.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Sam said, a little disappointed. They’d started sending the packages three months ago. They hadn’t gotten a reply until about a month and a half ago, and thankfully, the letter enclosed merely read; “Got your package. Thanks. Stay safe. -Dean and Cas.” It wasn’t much, but it was a start, and over the last month, the letters had gotten longer, occasionally even with personal details slipping in. They still hadn’t officially apologized to each other, but they were at least talking. It didn’t quite make Sam’s guilt disappear, but it had certainly helped to assuage it.

“Hey, come on.” Lucifer said, nudging Sam slightly. “Cheer up. Things are improving. You’ve started talking again, Cas is still unreasonably obsessed with bees, and judging by Dean’s refusal of Busty Asian Beauties, I’d say he’s got other things to fulfill his needs.” Lucifer winked knowingly. Sam groaned.

“I still can’t believe you sent him those.”

“I couldn’t resist.” Lucifer said, without an ounce of shame. “I would’ve loved to see the look on Castiel’s face when he opened that box. Do you think he thought it was for him?”

“No, I don’t think so.” Sam laughed. “I think we’re all well aware of Dean’s, uh, preferences in porn.”

“Mm.” Lucifer murmured, nodding thoughtfully. “Maybe I should send him hentai next time.” Sam nearly choked on his laughter, laughing loud enough that Lucifer raised an inquiring eyebrow at him.

“I’ll pay you to send him hentai.” Sam choked, wiping his eyes. “It’ll be worth it for him to try to explain it to Cas.” Lucifer smirked, basking in Sam’s happiness. Sam’s laughed eventually died down, and he leaned against Lucifer, closing his eyes. They sat like that, in silence, for a while, the sound of their breathing the only audible thing in the room.

“You know, I didn’t picture this being how I’d end up.” Sam said quietly. Lucifer stirred slightly next to him, but didn’t speak, silently prompting Sam to continue. “Dean and I have always sort of known that we won’t live to be old. Hunting doesn’t exactly have the best life insurance, y’know? We’re all expected to die pretty early, and that’s standard,and we’re okay with it. But now...I don’t know, now it’s like I actually have the rest of my life before me instead of wondering if this hunt will be the last one I ever do, or if I’m going to get murdered in my sleep and never get to say good-bye to the people I care about. I mean, obviously that could still happen to me, but you’ve given me at least an extra five years, and that’s...amazing. A lot can happen in five years. So...thanks, I guess.”

“My pleasure, Sammy.” Lucifer said, smiling. Sam smiled back, nuzzling closer to the archangel. Sam closed his eyes, fully intending to spend the rest of the afternoon pleasantly dozing next to Lucifer. He was just about to drop off when Lucifer spoke.

“Are you happy?” Lucifer asked, his voice carefully nonchalant. Sam smiled. Lucifer had been asking him that a lot over the past few months, springing it on Sam abruptly to catch him off guard and see how he’d react. 

“Yes, Luci.” Sam replied, leaning forward to kiss the archangel. “I’m happy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The ending! Ahhh! I've never been more nervous about posting a chapter. I really hope it's good and addresses all your concerns and fixes everything (at least mostly). Endings are hard to write, and endings to chapter fics are even worse. I apologize if it's cliche or terrible or whatnot. I really, really hope it's up to par. *hides in a corner*
> 
> Thank all of you for being here and reading my fic! I'd be nothing without you. Thanks for the comments, kudos, bookmarks, and hits. They're the primary fuel for my writing. Each and every one of you get a hug. And cookies.


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